


Namesake

by readbycandlelight



Category: The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Returns (2001)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readbycandlelight/pseuds/readbycandlelight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evelyn Nefertiri O’Connell, nicknamed “Tiri,” is the great granddaughter of Evelyn and Rick O’Connell. Tiri was born the same evening that her great grandmother passed away and is almost the spitting image of her. This is the story of the modern day O’Connell getting wrapped up in her family’s legacy of curses, treasure seeking, and hokum adventures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Present day London, England

The O’Connell Estate

The dappled morning sunlight filtered through the crisp London air and into the upper levels of the O’Connell family residence. Glancing off the cream walls of a well worn study, the rays of light illuminated priceless artifacts of varying ages.

This particular morning was Tiri O’Connell’s eighteenth birthday, and she expected, as she did every year, to hear a harrowing tale of one of her great-grandparents’ adventures in Egypt. She sat opposite of her grandfather at his austere mahogany desk, which was stacked with a messy array of precariously balanced tomes, scrolls and the odd knick-knack or intriguing pendant. Her grandfather, Alex O’Connell, though grayed and worn with age, had the gleam of a childlike excitement in his eyes and voice. His enthusiasm was infectious and he never disappointed in the telling.

“…And that, my dear Tiri, is how your great grandmum got back at that ancient concubine Anck-Su-Namun and royally kicked. Her. Arse.”  
Tiri laughed at her grandfather’s crass language. It seemed with every passing year Grandpa Alex’s profanity increased, and Tiri loved him for it. “I wish I could have met her,” Tiri said yearningly. 

“She sounds like she was great fun to be around.”

Her grandfather’s triumphant grin softened. “She was one of the most amazing, brave, brilliant and beautiful women I have ever known.” Leaning slightly forward he considered the chips on the Senet board, an ancient Egyptian game, that lay piled high on top of the precious disarray cluttering his desk. He frowned as he realized Tiri had just won the game as she swept her last piece off of the board. “These traits were obviously passed through the family line,” he muttered.

Tiri gave a winning smile and shrugged. “It’s only a game of luck. Just looks like today was my lucky day.”

“It’s a game of luck and skill,” he said with a chuckle. “Much like life. One must know when good luck is in one’s favor and seize it! You’ve got that same cleverness as your great-grandmother. She knew when to seize luck as well.” Tiri’s smile turned a bit bashful and she watched her grandfather study her. “You remind me of her so much,” he said after a lengthy pause. “The family resemblance is uncanny. It’s almost as if I’m looking into a photograph. Apart from your eyes of course. My mother’s were a deep brown, as I recall. Very dark indeed when she was put out with Dad, which was most of the time.”

The exotic, tilted-almond shape of her smiling gaze was framed by most becoming thick, dark eyelashes. The shocking contrast between her black pupils and light gold irises was quite breathtaking. The amusement in her gaze increased as her grandfather continued speaking.

“I should also point out that she also didn’t have that newfangled streak of turquoise in her hair,” he said with a chuckle.

The aforementioned streak of turquoise coquettishly peaked out from within Tiri’s mass of wavy caramel-colored hair as she shook her head in mock dismay. “I’ll have you know I’m making a statement Grandpa Alex!” She protested with a huff, the impish smile on her face conveying she was a good sport about her grandfather’s teasing.

“Oh? And what would that statement be? Bohemian Rhapsody?”

“Yes, Grandpa. I’m just a poor boy from a poor family.” She waved her hand over the board as her grandfather laughed heartily. “Shall I clear this away now you’ve been thoroughly beaten by an eighteen year old?”

Alex folded his arms across his chest and raised a single grey eyebrow. “Fine. But promise me we’ll play again soon, best of three and all that.”

“Promise Grandpa,” Tiri replied with a grin as she pushed her chair away from the desk and rose to her feet. Stretching briefly, Tiri raised her arms above her head and in one movement plucked the silk drawstring bag the game pieces were kept in from its position atop a pile of books. She swept the pieces into the rescued bag, and folded the wooden board away into itself with all the practiced grace of someone who played out-of-favor ancient Egyptian games often. After glancing about the room, she eventually found the game’s vacant resting place on a nearby shelf between two piles of yellowing papyrus scrolls and moved to return it to its rightful position.

“Just look at you, old girl,” Alex remarked, regarding her from across the room. “Where did those years go? Weren’t you sitting on my knee wearing your little pinafore and pigtails just yesterday?”  
“Oh, old girl now am I?” Tiri laughed, selecting a scroll from the shelf to fiddle with and turning to face her grandfather before blowing the dust off its crisp surface and into the cool air. “If I’m old, then you’re positively ancient!”

“I know what ancient truly is Tiri, and I can assure you I am not it,” her grandfather replied matter-of-factly.

Tiri turned away from him and placed the scroll back on the shelf with its dusty brethren, a small, bemused smile settling on her face. Sometimes she really got the feeling Grandpa Alex truly believed in the hokum tales about curses and dusty mummies that he told her about each year. She had noticed that his insistence about the existence of curses and magic had dramatically increased after her Grandma Lin had passed away five years ago. Her then seventy-nine year old grandfather had come out of retirement to start digs again. Tiri had often privately wondered what it was he was so adamantly looking for these past five years, but certainly wasn’t game enough to ask. The tale he would spin her would be just as exaggerated as those he recounted of her great-grandparents.  
As it was, Grandpa Alex graciously offered to host her eighteenth birthday at the O’Connell estate, and had asked her upon her arrival at the family home last night to meet him in his study this morning, for a round of Senet, her and her grandfather’s particular favorite Egyptian board game, and a chat before all her guests began to arrive. For as long as she could remember, his study always held an air of magic about it for her. Her natural curiosity had always led her to poking about the room, drinking in the sight of old trinkets and jewelery of the ancients and wondering about the symbols upon them.

Making her way back across the room Tiri retook the seat across from her grandfather. Yet after her teasing about his advanced age Alex now seemed to be staring off into space. His hands were linked under his chin and elbows rested on the dark polished surface of his desk, while his mind was undoubtedly lost in a time unknown to her. But, it was mere seconds before the mood that he was under lifted and he gave her a quick, broad smile. “Hah, but then again maybe I am an old fuddy-duddy. Look at me, slipping off into space like an old man. Hrrumph.”

Tiri giggled and settled more comfortably in her seat. “Please, Grandpa. You’re as quick as a whip and just as fit as father - who, in case you cannot recall, is 30 years younger than you!” And it was true; her grandfather had the physique of a man active his whole life. His skin was dark and leathery from repeated years of getting sun damage in the desert heat, and he had the knotted muscles of a man who was extremely athletic in his prime but, with the sands of time and age, those muscles had sunken in.

“You’ve always known how to win your Grandpa over, Tiri,” he beamed merrily. “Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite grandchild?”

Tiri rolled her eyes. “I’m your only grandchild.”

“But you’re worth more than ten fat grandbabies plus my two playboy sons combined. Speaking of playboy sons, how is your father? Did he ring you to tell you when he’ll be arriving today?”

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “He said he’ll be here around noon to help set up the party.”

From the frown on his face it was abundantly clear that her grandfather didn’t approve of the lifestyles his twin sons, her father Bradley and his brother William, had adopted. Curiously, Grandpa Alex often alluded to them having Uncle Jonathon Syndrome, but it was never fully explained to Tiri what this condition involved. It seemed to Tiri, and everyone else for that matter, that her father and uncle did not have the ability to properly balance the family fortune between business and pleasure. As such, Brad and Will O’Connell were the proud owners of many businesses of ill-repute, financed largely by their uncanny knack for counting cards. A knack which, they maintained, was inherited. Nightclubs, casinos and betting rings across the globe were managed by the two men, and they hopped from bed to bed, and woman to woman, as they globe-trotted around the world with a care for no-one but themselves.

Her father, as one could imagine, constantly came into contact with very interesting individuals who climbed the high rungs of the social ladder. Tiri herself had been the result of her father accidentally knocking up a famous Parisian fashion model named Michèle Arceneau. Word in the maid’s quarters was that Dad and Uncle Will had both gotten vasectomies shortly after seeing Tiri’s red and wrinkled little body being birthed with the help of the Jaws of Life—that, and Tiri’s mum’s constant bemoaning thereafter about her stretch marks. Her mum still wouldn’t let the whole stretch marks thing go.

Since her parents were too busy leading their own self absorbed lives, Tiri had spent her youth with Grandpa Alex and Grandma Lin, before boarding at a prestigious all girls private school in London. The streak of turquoise in her hair was a symbol of freedom to finally be graduated and rid of the severe school restrictions that she had been bound under most of her young life.  
Grandpa Alex’s voice broke into her thoughts, “And your mother, when does she arrive?”

“She said she’d be here in the early afternoon. Why’s that?”

“Oh my girl, it’s not an O’Connell family reunion until those two are put into a room together. I think we should egg them on to duke it out. I’d put one hundred pounds on Michèle that she knocks the snot out of him!”

“Grandpa Alex!”

“Models are vicious, vicious creatures,” Grandpa Alex said in delight. “You never know, she might knock some sense into the lad.” Sobering slightly, he reached out and clasped her hand in his own. 

“Back to the topic at hand – you, my dear. I asked you here this morning, not so that I could be soundly thrashed at Senet, but because I have a gift for you. I wanted to give it to you before the guests arrive.” With the vigor of a man half his age, Alex released her hand and sprung from his seat, striding toward the shelf on which she had previously placed the Egyptian game set. Once there, he knelt in front of the wall cabinet, displaced various boxes and belongings and revealed a small safe of which she had no knowledge until this moment.

Alex turned the knob of the safe back, then forth, then back again, seemingly muttering the long remembered combination as he did so, and then gave the little door a punch. The safe swung open and he carefully extracted what seemed to be a long, thin stone tablet. Tiri stood as her grandfather nudged the safe door closed and approached her, craning her neck while attempting to get a better look at the object. Alex ran his weathered fingers over the stone centerpiece and pressed down, as something unlatched with a sharp click. The stone tablet opened as easily as the cover of a book, and Tiri could only gape in surprise as a regal necklace of unknown ancient Egyptian origin was presented to her.

Alex’s eyes twinkled, “Close your mouth dear girl, it’s very unladylike. This, is an Egyptian Usekh Collar. Pharaohs, royalty, and occasionally priests would wear them. This one in particular, was Princess Nefertiri’s. It was written that there was no other woman in Egypt equal to her beauty. As it happens, your great grandmum was quite fond of her, and this necklace has been part of her estate for some time. I’ve been holding on to it to give to you on your eighteenth birthday. What do you think of it, my girl?”

Tiri lifted her hand to the intricately strung collar held by her grandfather, which shone gold in the sunlight streaming through the window. Inlaid with coral, it glittered with lapis lazuli and turquoise gemstones. Her fingers ghosted over it, as though she were too afraid to touch such a precious thing. “It’s… incredible. This is really for me?”

“Absolutely! You, at least, are an O’Connell that can appreciate the value of ancient artifacts. Your father and uncle…I don’t know what happened with them. The tomb digging gene must have skipped a generation. But I see my wise old mum in you so much. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like a coincidence that you are her namesake.” Her grandfather trailed off as he undid the clasp of the wide necklace and moved behind her to put it around her neck. “There we are,” he said as he fastened it. “Now turn round and let’s have a look, there’s a mirror around here somewhere… ah here we go.”

She did as he said and was met with her mirror image. Her grandfather was holding up an ancient hand mirror, still strung with cobwebs from whichever corner of the study he had hastily grabbed it from. The top of the necklace rested snugly at the base of her neck and then branched out into golden teardrops and colorful precious gems, which spread out in a fan across her collarbone, shoulders and back. The necklace was heavy in a comforting sort of way; like a soothing hand on her shoulder.

Or rather, exactly like a soothing hand on her shoulder.

A woman slightly shorter and curvier than her with brown eyes, but other than that distinctly the same, suddenly appeared in the mirror at her side with a hand resting on Tiri’s shoulder. Her great grandmother, Evelyn O’Connell, smiled at her warmly and nodded her head in approval. Tiri blinked and the image was gone.

“What just—” She cut her own question off and grabbed the mirror out of her grandfather’s hand, peering hard into her own reflection and willing the apparition to appear again.

“What is it, my girl? Not the latest style?” Grandpa Alex asked in concern.

“No, no! It’s not that at all! It just… well I—I swore I just saw Evelyn O’Connell… I mean, er, Great Grandmum!”

Her grandfather visibly relaxed. “Yes, as I said you do bare an eerie resemblance to my ol’Mum. Seeing you in this collar brings back memories of Mum in her glory days when everyday was a new adventure just waiting to happen,” Alex set the stone tablet atop his disheveled desk, and was silent for a moment before adding, “You can keep the hand mirror too if you like, that was hers as well. I remember her using it when I was a boy.”

Tiri shook her head in an attempt to clear it, suddenly feeling a bit dazed. Perhaps the stress of the impending O’Connell family reunion was getting to her. “Thank you for the gifts, Grandpa,” she said, as she wrapped her grandfather in a hug. “They’re wonderful.”

“Oh you are very welcome, my dear girl,” he said with affection, squeezing her tight. “Now go get ready for your big day. Rumor has it, you’ve a lot of surprises in store for you this evening. Wear your new necklace,” he smiled. “It’ll bring you luck. It’s ancient, you know.”


	2. Chapter 2

Namesake

Chapter 2

Eighteen years previously…

Santa Monica UCLA Medical Center, The BirthPlace. Santa Monica, California

It was late, very late, and a new mother named Michèle lay sleeping in her hospital bed. At her bedside was Evelyn O’Connell, a woman who hardly knew her but was forever connected to her now with the birth of a much awaited great grandchild.

The Matriarch of the O’Connell family had aged gracefully. Her hair, which had been a luscious cascade of caramel waves, had turned silvery, and it contrasted quaintly with her age-softened olive skin and dark brown eyes. She had taken good care of herself through the years; having led a very active life with her husband and son, and also having kept up with hyperactive twin grandsons. Her rigorous extracurricular activities of digging up ancient artifacts and lost cities (and the subsequent disturbance of the balance of things, oftentimes inadvertently reawakening ancient supernatural beings—which led to heart pounding exercise while making a mad dash to save the day) and her natural thirst for knowledge had kept her youthful; for she also looked to her ancient ancestors (and her son Alex’s 2,000 year old wife Lin) for health and wellness secrets. Throughout her lifetime she had kept up a beauty regimen of anointing her body with the purest virgin oils of the olive, coconut and lotus, and used the finest natural cosmetics. Evelyn also took her cues from the Middle East and the Far East and ate a diet rich in herbs, spices, and plant foods to curb the affects that came with the Western palate: heaviness.

Although longevity did have its consequences: the love of her life, Rick O’Connell, had passed away seven years previously. It had been his heart. So many awful things they had faced together and conquered—scarabs, tomb robbers, mummies, a Scorpion King, Jackals, dragons and evil emperors—and it was a heart attack that took him. Her strong, brave, bloody difficult but lovable American man was killed by something so mundane as a clogged artery. It was unthinkable. Give her deadly plagues, give her locusts, give her curses and she knew how to deal with them, but a sudden disease of the heart she could not cleverly decode and vanquish.

But her love had been an all American man all right, having seen her health and wellness regimen as a ‘frilly girl’ type of thing, and he partook in massive amounts of hearty “man food” and alcohol like only a grown man could. But he wouldn’t be her Rick if he hadn’t challenged her at every turn.  
“Oh Rick,” Evie whispered, looking out of the hospital window into the clear, dark sky, decorated by shining bright stars and the soft glow of a large full moon. “I wish you could have been here for this moment.”

The stirring of the tiny body in the hospital basinet next to her broke her out of her reverie and she wiped away the lone tear that had escaped and glided down her downy cheek. “You have a great granddaughter,” she continued, now with a smile, as she picked up the small, precious newborn. “We have a little girl in the family. Finally. I know how much you always wanted a little girl to spoil.” Evie gave a soft, delighted giggle as the baby girl wrapped her tiny, chubby little hand around her index finger. “She’s strong. Just like you. Made it through a traumatic birth—what with them having to use the Jaws of Life and all—but she got through it all right because she’s got your brave spirit. And she’s so very smart—like me,” she added coyly, brushing the tuft of fine caramel colored baby hairs on the girl’s head. “I can tell.”

Evie began to gently rock the child, who was already fast asleep again. She studied the girl’s features in silence for a moment, noting with pride that she could see a lot of herself in her. “But she doesn’t have a name yet, and that just won’t do, now, will it? Hmmmm.”

Her gaze was fixed on the sweet little face of her great granddaughter. The girl’s delicate little eyelids quivered in baby dreams and her tiny fist reflexively clenched tighter around Evie’s finger.  
Suddenly, as if triggered by the slight presser, it was as if Evie were cast into the same dream as the baby. She gasped as a vision enveloped her senses.

She was in ancient Egypt; the scenery all too familiar. The room she was in was massive. Every surface shone brilliantly, having diligently been polished to perfection by those stationed to the task. Golden statues of the Egyptian Gods proudly stood in high relief in featured areas of the cavernous space and long, whisper thin curtains of pure white linens cascaded down from the high ceilings, giving the room an atmosphere of a sacred place of worship. Out of the corner of her view she noticed a figure facing away from her, leaning against the low wall of a grand balcony. The back of the figure was illuminated by the golden-orange light of the brightly burning wall sconces dispersed throughout the room and on the two opposite walls at either ends of the balcony. The figure was most definitely feminine shaped, and wore the headdress and regal garb of ancient Egyptian royalty. There was something very…peculiar about her…

The womanly figure inclined her head to the side, her face now in profile and visible to Evie. She had a look of utter bewilderment on her beautiful face, her delicate brow scrunched up in a silent question.

Evie was having a truly out of body experience. Unlike her vision when she was on the dirigible all those years ago on her way to save Alex, she was not incased in her reincarnated body this time—for she was staring at Nefertiri! Herself!

Her mind raced as her vision rushed her closer to the balcony. She was now in league with Nefertiri and was viewing an expanse of night sky and another distant section of the majestic Egyptian palace. ‘Oh no, not again,’ she thought as she was yet again looking down at the horrific scene where Pharaoh was to be killed. Anck-Su-Namun was coquettishly posed at the base of the golden statue, Pharaoh walking towards her…

Evie waited a beat.

And then another…

Nothing happened—nothing sinister at least.

There was a rush of blackness as something suddenly walked straight through her non-corporeal form. Her misty vision recollected itself and when the smokey tendrils of blackness dispersed…the horror finally came—but it was on her side of the balcony.  
The imperious figure of Imhotep glanced down at the distant scene of Anck-Su-Namun and the Pharaoh, who were lovingly embracing. He smiled coldly at them; the smile turning into a sneer right before he turned his back on them and set his sights on a stricken Nefertiri. Evelyn watched helplessly as he took Nefertiri into his arms, whispering something to the princess that Evie could not catch.

The only thing loud enough for her to comprehend was the dark priest saying, “Tiri,” right before he crushed Nefertiri against him in a searing kiss…

Evelyn came back to herself, the only word heard throughout her vision streaming from her lips. “Tiri…”

Her gaze refocused on the baby, who had gone lax, escaping into deeper sleep. The girl’s tiny fist slipped from her index finger and fell to rest placidly on her little chest. “Nefertiri,” Evelyn whispered, testing the name out.

Her heart pounding hard in her chest, she delicately smoothed an eyelid of the baby’s open to check for eye color. Hazel. “It’s all right,” she soothed as the baby squirmed, trying to convince herself as much as she was the baby.

‘Nefertiri had hazel eyes in the vision,’ Evie thought, her scholar’s mind going into overdrive. In fact, there were minute details that had been different about Nefertiri’s body that were not congruent with Evelyn’s body when it had been in its prime. For one, the eye color was off. Evelyn had dark chocolate colored irises—the princess in the vision had hazel, almost completely golden, eyes. The girl’s body was also taller and more willowy than Evelyn’s body had ever been—for in Evie’s youth she had been hourglass shaped and very voluptuous. This Nefertiri’s breasts had been more petite on a lithe frame like…

Michèle Arceneau’s. Evelyn turned her gaze toward the slumbering new mother. She had never met the young woman before the pregnancy (and hadn’t gotten to know her much during the pregnancy either because she had booked as many modeling jobs as she could before she starting showing) but what Evie did know from researching who it was exactly her grandson had gotten pregnant was that Michèle was known for her hypnotic golden eyes.

Nefertiri’s eyes. Evie felt a tendril of fear grip her as she gazed back down at her infant great granddaughter, the new Nefertiri reincarnate.  
Already this precious little baby was marked by an overwhelming fate. Imhotep had known her personally…had called her by the nickname, ‘Tiri.’ How would this all come to be? And could it be stopped?

She placed a delicate kiss to the baby’s forehead, resolved to go back to the estate in the Santa Monica hills that her grandson’s liked to luxuriate in while in California. She always came prepared wherever she was traveling to with the golden book of Amun-Ra and the black Book of the Dead. Evelyn tenderly placed the infant back into the hospital basinet, giving her one last sweet kiss good bye. “Sleep well my little Nefertiri.”

So it was that Evelyn went back to the beachside estate to collect her thoughts and research protection spells well into the night. Her old, tired eyes steadily read and deciphered the proper incantations, and she was lucky enough to find the beautiful collar necklace of Nefertiri’s, which had been a trophy to her in youth, in one of her trunks. It was stated clearly within the golden book that to cast spells of protection, an object of significance would be needed to sustain the magic. Evelyn focused every last bit of her energy to get the spells just right, and forged it all together with a blood sacrifice, slicing the palm of her right hand and letting the blood drip onto the necklace. The spells bound together with the collar, beams of bright, golden light shimmering where the blood dripped and absorbed in, until the whole necklace was infused in a blinding white-hot light. With a loud crack, the magic settled, and with Evelyn’s last remaining strength, she wrote out the words ‘To Nefertiri,’ on stationery presented with the necklace—and then promptly fell asleep, never to wake up.

The next day, the new mother Michèle, who had been awake and listening to Evelyn’s loving words to her child, named the baby girl Evelyn Nefertiri O’Connell, after her late great grandmother.  
Present day London, England

The O’Connell Estate

“Oh sweet Goddess, would you look at that!” Laxmi exclaimed, delicately stroking a golden bead at Tiri’s throat. “Do I get a matching one on my birthday?” she joked.  
Tiri gave her best friend a light nudge in the side. “Don’t think this comes two-in-a-kind, darling. But if you play your cards right I’m sure Grandpa Alex will get you something real posh—like the Holy Grail or something. He loves you more than he loves me, anyways,” she teased.

Laxmi rolled her dark eyes, her platinum and diamond nose stud (birthday gift from Grandpa Alex) glinting in the light. “But seriously though, you O’Connells sure know how to gift-give. Too bad you weren’t born a boy—I would have shagged my way into the family.”

Tiri just shook her head at her friend’s antics and turned to her walk in closet. The girl was as good as family-and Laxmi knew it too. She just liked to shock people by saying outlandish things-but Tiri was the toughest to crack because she was wise to Laxmi’s ways. “Well, you are of age now, and my father and Uncle Will are still perpetual bachelors—choose your pick.”

“Uuugh,” her friend scoffed, swinging around to lean against a side of the closet while Tiri dug through it. “Can you imagine? …Although, they are quite fit for their age, aren’t they?” she added, and Tiri could hear the grin in her voice. “What with them screwing—I mean, training—with all those celebrity Hollywood trainers. Best start practicing calling me Mummy Laxmi!”

Tiri emerged from the closet, carrying a silken, cream colored frock. Her eyes turned into slits as she eyed her russet-skinned friend. “So it’s Father then? I always knew you had a thing for him,” she teased. “What do you think of this?” she added, holding up the garment to her form.

Laxmi let out a low whistle. “You’ll stun in that outfit. The subtle color goes well with that show-stopping necklace,” she input, going into fashion mode. Her mum was a seamstress/clothing designer that worked almost exclusively for the O’Connell family.

Laxmi was half Indian and half Egyptian. While on holiday in Egypt, her Indian mother had met and fallen in love with her Egyptian father. But Laxmi’s father had died when she was very young, and her mother was left to support her daughter on her own. It was in a tiny tailoring shop in Cairo that Tiri’s grandfather had discovered Laxmi and her mum, Jhumpa, while he was on an excursion to get his pants and shirts mended. Laxmi’s mother Jhumpa had been perplexed by all the tears in his outdoor clothes, which looked as if long fingernails had sliced through them. She made a joke about him getting into a fight with a cat just let out of a well-shaken bag, and he always had a soft-spot for well humored individuals. He invited Jhumpa and her daughter to come back with him and his family to his London estate, where he said he had vast numbers of clothes needing mending and a granddaughter for Laxmi to play with. And so it was that Laxmi and her mother moved into their own apartments on the O’Connell estate, where Jhumpa heroically mended all the tears that the O’Connell’s seemed to endlessly generate, and where Laxmi and Tiri became fast friends.

They grew up together and had gone to school together, but Laxmi had gotten in on scholarship—for her mother wouldn’t hear of Grandpa Alex paying the vast tuition. So Jhumpa spent her free time drilling Laxmi on her studies, and making her practice, practice, practice at the piano and violin. Tiri was never forced to participate, but she was drawn to the strong mother-daughter bond that Jhumpa and Laxmi had, and would more often than not tag along for the arduous studying so that she could pretend for a time that Jhumpa was her mother too, making her practice, practice, practice.

“Thanks. And don’t think I forgot about you,” Tiri grinned, rummaging back in her closet. “I found this in a trunk that belonged to Grandma Lin. Grandpa Alex gave me free reign with all her clothes, and I thought this was rather fetching. But looking at it, I think it would be more suited to you. Your complexion will make it hypnotizing.”

Tiri held out a cherry red, emerald green, and midnight black Chinese silk Kimono gown.

Laxmi gave a shriek of delight. “You—are the best friend ever.”

Tiri stuck out her tongue and tossed the radiant gown to Laxmi. “No, you are.”

“No, I do believe you are,” Laxmi said, catching the gown and holding it up to her body, doing a twirl with it.

“No, you are!”

“No, you are!”

And so on it went as they got ready for Tiri’s eighteenth birthday celebration.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own The Mummy series and do not make any profit off of this.  
Namesake  
Chapter 3  
“Tiri, babycakes, come give your old man some love!” a deep, American accented voice rang out.  
Tiri rolled her eyes, much to the dismay of Paolo, the professional makeup artist who was expertly lining her eyes with jet black kohl to give her the smokey eye effect for tonight’s party. ‘Urban rockstar meets sexy Egyptian Goddess’ he called the look. “Uncle Will… You’re not fooling anyone.”  
Her Uncle Will popped into her powder room. “How’d you know it was me?”  
She turned in her seat to face him, Paolo weakly crying out in protest. “‘Babycakes?’ Seriously? Plus father never calls me Tiri.”  
“Damn,” he said, snapping his fingers.  
“But you both can call me anything you like,” Laxmi butted in flirtatiously from her seat on Tiri’s marble sink countertop.  
Uncle Will took a staggered step back, cupping his hand over his heart as if struck by an arrow. He lowered his dark sunglasses for dramatic emphasis. “Laxmi Kattan? Is that you?”  
Laxmi re-crossed her slim legs and batted her eyelashes sex-kittenishly. “The one and only,” she purred.  
“Wow,” he said, nodding his head, his eyes drifting. “Wooooow.”  
Laxmi giggled. Tiri felt like she was going to wretch. “Ugh, get a room you two. Where’s my dad?”  
Uncle Will slid his shades back on all the way. “Downstairs pulling some strings, making some calls, getting everything set up for his beautiful baby girl… Happy birthday babycakes,” he said, ruffling her hair, making her head move a bit. Paolo looked like he wanted to kill him.  
“Hold still,” the harried makeup artist barked in Italian.  
“Jeez, and on that note, I leave this estroge—Whoa,” Uncle Will said, leaning in to get a better look at Tiri. “Nice necklace! Raid a tomb recently? Oh wait, that actually happens in this family…”  
Tiri apologized to Paolo in Italian before turning her attention back to her uncle. She gave a lopsided grin. “Thanks. Grandpa gave it to me as a present this morning. It was Great Grandma Evie’s—and before that it was Queen Nefertiri’s.”  
Uncle Will gave her a genuine smile. “It suits you.”  
“Yes it does,” came the voice of her father, Brad O’Connell. “Happy birthday, love,” he said, sliding his cell phone into his perfectly tailored slate grey trousers while stepping into the overcrowding powder room.  
By this time Paolo had finished his artistry on Tiri’s face with a flourish. He looked her over with a self-satisfied smile before promptly exiting the room, done with the unruly O’Connell clan. “I will send the bill to your crazy mummy-obsessed grandfather,” he said over his shoulder, unrepentant.  
Tiri had to laugh at Paolo’s unabashed parting words. Everyone else in the room didn’t speak Italian fluently so they just blinked and looked sort of lost.  
“Hi Dad,” Tiri said, coming down from her laugh. She rose up from her seat and they embraced in a hug.  
“Look at you,” her dad said, holding her away at arm’s length after a long embrace to get a good look at her. “You’re a woman!” he said with some surprise.  
Tiri’s cheeks blushed pink in embarrassment. “Thanks for the announcement, Dad. Might as well tell everyone that, yes, your daughter no longer has to wear band-aids instead of bras.”  
“Nope, those mosquito bites have finally turned into juicy, juicy little mangos,” Laxmi said nonchalantly.  
“Laxmi!” Tiri shrieked. “I curse the day you were born! May your giant boobs shrink into raisins!”  
Laxmi snickered. Her father and uncle raised twin eyebrows in identical amused expressions.  
Her father continued: “Uh…boobs and curses aside, I meant you as a whole have become a woman. You’re not gangly anymore,” he said wistfully. “You’ve got that hidden kiss at the corner of your mouth now, the one that holds all your feminine allure.”  
Uncle Will raised his sunglasses again and squinted. “Her what? …Ah, yes. Now that you mention it, Brad, I’m seeing it… Well, time to lock her up away in the highest tower and throw away the key.”  
Tiri ignored her uncle. She gave her dad another hug. He was referencing Peter Pan, something he had read to her time and again in her girlhood every time he had her, which had been every other summer. The author J. M. Barrie had described a hidden kiss that Wendy Darling’s mother had at the corner of her mouth—something that young Wendy wanted terribly to have too someday. Tiri, seeing the beauty of her own mother and the women who caught her father’s eye, knew that they all had that ‘hidden kiss’ that J. M. Barrie was talking about…and Tiri, just like Wendy, desperately wanted to have it as well. She kissed her dad’s cheek. “Thank you, Dad.”  
“You’re mother is going to absolutely hate what you did to your hair, by the way… Which is why I absolutely love it,” her father said as an aside, talking about the turquoise streak at the nape of her neck.  
“Yeah, you’ve got that whole rockstar vibe going on, Tiri,” her uncle said, embracing both her and her father in a group hug. She and her dad burst out in laughter at his antics.  
Laxmi joined in as well. “That’s because Tiri is a rockstar.”  
“Aaaaw, thanks Laxmi,” Tiri said. “You know I didn’t really mean what I said about cursing your boobs to wither into raisins, right?”  
“Duh. If you had meant the curse, it would have happened. It’s all about the intent,” Laxmi said breezily, the superstition behind her words palpable.  
A wave of unease settled upon the small group. Everyone in the room knew the stories behind the O’Connell’s vast wealth. Even if they were just stories, it was still creepy as hell to think of fabled curses such as the Hom-Dai, which Grandpa Alex had zealously related to them all at one point or another.  
It was at that time that the hairstylist came in to steal the birthday girl away. Tiri’s father and uncle left the room to deal with birthday details while Laxmi took her place back up on Tiri’s granite sink countertop, chitchatting away with Tiri as the hairstylist teased Tiri’s hair into a messy riot of sex-bomb curls.  
“Oh, mon petit chéri, you look absolutely ravishing! Ze blue extension is cute,” Tiri’s mother said as she glided into the room as the hairstylist was packing up her equipment. She gave a charming ”allo’ to acknowledge Laxmi in greeting.  
“Hi, Mère! …It’s not an extension,” Tiri added uneasily as she embraced her mother. She felt her mum’s thin frame tense.  
“You mean that that thing is permanently in your hair?” her mother said, completely reverting to speaking rapid French. ‘Oh Mum,’ Tiri thought, ‘how easily something you referred to as cute suddenly becomes just a thing.’  
“Yes,” Tiri answered back in French. “I did it as an early birthday present to myself. It’s no big deal now that I’m out of school until Uni starts.”  
Her mother’s long-lashed, golden gaze swept over her from head to toe. “I suppose it is charming for your eighteenth birthday extravaganza. After this when you come home with me to Paris for the summer it will be easy to switch back,” she added consolingly.  
“But I just put it in Mother. What would be the point of switching it back? I like how it is.”  
“Tiri, you know that as an up-and-coming model you need to portray yourself as an open canvas for the designers. Let your natural beauty ensnare them and then they can dress you up in their little fantasies for a little while. But I emphasize ‘little while’ because the girls that dye their hair or get tattoos to encapsulate one look never get as many jobs. You need to be natural and versatile—not a beautiful rocker girl every day.”  
Tiri suppressed something deep welling up inside of her. Something torn and hurt and withered to smithereens. She looked at her mother’s gold, silken tresses. It was so natural—so damn cutthroat perfect. “You’re right, Mum,” she sighed. “When we get to Paris I’ll have it dyed back.”  
“You are so beauteeful,” her mum said, reverting back to English. She lightly cupped Tiri’s chin, tilting her head from side to side. “You ‘ave my eyes, but ozzer zan zat I cannot take credeet for zis siren face,” she said with a soft smile.  
Tiri smiled; it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you, Mum.”  
Tiri fell into a pile of plush pillows, her bare feet resting in the cool grass. The gardens of the estate had been turned into an outdoor ballroom fit for a grand wedding. Her family had really outdone themselves for her party.  
All of the ancient trees on the property were dripping with lights and crystals. There were all of her favorite flowers everywhere: lotuses and deep purple orchids and tiger lilies. The jumble of colors fit the scheme, as silken pillows of every shape and size were scattered about around low tables, which were lined with thin glass troughs that contained delicate little floating tea candles in water. The night sky, shining stars and moon were overhead. Her great grandparent’s favorite records played on the family’s old record player; the scratchy sound and the glamorous tunes of the early 20’s, 30’s and 40’s giving the night that extra element of ethereal decadence.  
Laxmi slumped down next to her, shooing off a suitor who still wanted to dance with her. “Happy birthday to you,” she sang under her breath to Tiri, her voice hoarse from laughing and singing and playfully screaming while frolicking with chasing boys.  
Three hundred of her ‘closest friends’ were there: which really meant that all the girls from her private school who had been in her year had been invited, intermixed with boys from an all boys private school, plus a whole mess of male models through her mother’s connections. Earlier she’d been carried around by four of the models on a chaise lounge throne fitted with intricate handlebars.  
“This has been amazing,” Tiri said, gazing up at the stars. A shooting star shimmered passed as if to confirm her assessment. “Oh wow!”  
“You have to make a wish now,” Laxmi said dreamily.  
“Ok.” Tiri closed her eyes very tight. A pause of ten seconds passed. “Done.”  
“Now don’t tell me or it won’t come true.”  
“Can I tell you what it was after it’s come true?” Tiri asked pensively.  
“Yes,” Laxmi answered thoughtfully. “But only then.”  
“Will Tiri O’Connell please report to the stage,” her Uncle Will interrupted in a goofy nasally voice as he spoke into a microphone. “I repeat: will the guest of honor, Miss Birthday Girl, please report to the stage.”  
Tiri rolled to an upright seated position, peering curiously at the large deck off of the back of the estate, which had been converted to a stage for the evening apparently. Several people spotted her and pulled her up, beckoning her towards the stage.  
She awkwardly stood in front of a sea of faces. There was a noise behind her and she turned to see a large outdoor theater screen unfurling. A projector started on and the filtering light composed a film on screen. Tiri watched as scenes from the classic film ‘Cleopatra’ played out. Tiri was watching, riveted, when all of a sudden she felt a large male hand take her hand in his and he started saying the lines along with Antony.  
Tiri turned and she was staring into the unbelievably gorgeous face of Manuel Casablancas—world famous film star. She gasped and felt her face heat up. Had she fallen asleep in the pillows? She gave herself a mental shake… No, he was still there, and was still repeating lines with amazing depth and accuracy. He finished his lines to riotous applause and wolf whistles.  
Manuel Casablancas was smiling at her, and he had her hand in his still!  
As she was still trying to process this all in her father and uncle took center stage. They were joined by a man who looked to be about a decade their senior, so in about his sixties. She blinked several times when she realized who he was: Manuel’s father, legendary filmmaker Raul Casablancas.  
“I hope you are all having a good time tonight!” Tiri’s father said into the microphone. A voice in the crowd shouted ‘Hell yeah!’ and then another shouted ‘Marry me Manuel!’ People laughed in response. “Good! Glad to hear it! As you all know, it’s my daughter Evelyn’s eighteenth birthday tonight, and we have something really special to surprise her with.” He gestured to Tiri. “Come over here darling.”  
Feeling completely put on the spot, Tiri went to stand by the group of men on the stage. She felt Manuel’s muscular arm go around her shoulders in a friendly gesture, making the cool metal of her necklace press into the back of her neck.  
“These two lovebirds are going to be starring in a movie together!” her Uncle Will burst out, gesturing at Manuel and her.  
Manuel’s arm tightened more securely around her, decidedly more than just friendly. He nuzzled her cheek. “Nice to meet you Evelyn O’Connell. I’ve heard many great things about you,” he whispered in her ear.  
She felt a shiver trail down her spine, completely at odds with the fact that she also felt like she was going to hurl or faint—or both.  
It was Raul Casablancas’ turn to take the microphone. “Hello everyone, Raul Casablancas here. Now, we’re not going to be doing a remake of Cleopatra…but considering what our film project is about it felt like a good opening. We are actually going to do a film centered on the Egyptian past and some of the O’Connell family’s history. As we all know, the O’Connell’s have had a lot of luck when it comes to uncovering the treasures of Egypt—and my friends and business partners here, Brad and Will, have shared some of their amazing stories of how it all happened. So we all decided that we were going to create this film—and who better to star as the leading lady than the young and very beautiful Evelyn Nefertiri O’Connell herself! Trust me, you will all be in for a very special treat when this film comes out!”  
Tiri’s father turned to her. “Happy birthday love! You’re going to be a star!”  
There was a thundering crash of applause and exclamations of delight. Tiri turned and saw that a still image had replaced the film on screen: it was a houte couture picture of her dressed as an ancient Egyptian princess. She had done it at sixteen while she was staying in Paris with her mother. Tiri felt her cheeks heat up in a red-hot blush, and on the inside she was screaming bloody murder. Instead, she gave a brief speech about being honored. Fireworks started going off in celebration.  
It was 3 A.M. and, except for a select few, all of the party guests were gone. Tiri, Laxmi, Tiri’s father and uncle, Grandpa Alex, her mum and Raul Casablancas and his handsome son were seated around the O’Connell’s grand dining table (it once belonged to King Henry VIII.) Leftover birthday cake and a fresh pot of tea were making their rounds. They were discussing the upcoming film project.  
“Now, I know you’re supposed to have Evelyn for the summer, Michèle, but seeing how the circumstances are I’m sure you won’t mind if we steal her, would you?” her father asked.  
Her mother Michèle stopped pretending to eat her tiny sliver of cake. “Oh no, not at all. Zis is an amazing opportunity for Tiri. I would not want her to miss out on zis for ze world!”  
Her parent’s genuinely smiled at each other for the first time in eighteen years.  
Uncle Will gleefully rubbed his hands together. “All right! Great! Looks like this show will definitely be going on the road then!”  
There was a smattering of delighted murmurs and clinks of water glasses in celebration. Raul Casablancas addressed Grandpa Alex: “I must admit I’ve been a fan of your family for years Dr. O’Connell. There is something so awe-inspiring about ancient Egyptian culture—and I love that your family is full of go-getters that have been exploring it for the better part of a century…” He paused, looking down at his plate before looking back up at Grandpa Alex, his eyes imploring. “I was wondering, could you give us the honor of experiencing your expertise by showing us around your Egypt? It would be the most amazing way to brush up on our history before filming starts.”  
Tiri, who had just been going through the motions ever since her ‘future stardom’ had been announced, finally snapped to attention at this. Starring in a movie had never been a top priority of hers, but Egypt… She’d never been to Egypt before; had, in fact, been dying to go since she was a little girl but was always told it was too dangerous for her.  
Her grandfather seemed to size the room up, his gaze lingering on his sons and Tiri. He smiled in utter delight. “First of all, call me Alex—I’ll have none of this ‘Dr. O’Connell’ nonsense. That’s just something that’s been heaped on me because of my contributions in the archeological world… And second of all,” he said, his smile ever-widening, if it were at all possible, “you are all in for the adventure of a lifetime! Egypt, here we come!”


	4. Chapter 4

Namesake  
Chapter 4  
"Pssst. You sleeping?"  
Tiri, wide awake, replied into the darkness. “No.”  
Laxmi gently closed the bedroom door shut and slid into Tiri’s bed next to her. “Scoot over Miss Movie Star.”  
Tiri gave a self-deprecating laugh and slid over. “Don’t call me that.”  
"Why not?"  
"Because it’s vapid and pretentious."  
"Wow. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you didn’t want to do the movie."  
Tiri struggled with her thoughts. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I just…feel weird about it. I mean, I didn’t even try out for the role. It was just handed to me.”  
Laxmi snorted quite unbecomingly. “The role is based on your great grandma Evelyn O’Connell. The woman who you are the spitting image of. You were made for the role.”  
"Yeah, I guess you’re right," Tiri sighed. "Did you see my parents? They were talking—to each other.”  
"Yeah, that was a bit of weirdness, wasn’t it?"  
"They’re really happy for me," Tiri said, her voice laced with a coaxing quality, as if she were trying to talk herself into it because of the pros. "They want this for me so much."  
"But do you want it for you?”  
Tiri was silent for a long pause. “I don’t know what I want,” she finally admitted, her voice filled with something to belie that it extended beyond just the movie role.  
"Well," Laxmi stated sagely, "Seems to me that the only way to figure out whether or not you want something is to try it out and take it from there. There’s that saying ‘All roads lead to Rome.’ Maybe taking this role is a stepping stone to lead you toward where you’re supposed to be."  
Tiri smiled into her blankets. “My Rome is looking a lot like Egypt.”  
Cairo, Egypt  
Within a whirlwind of only a few days after her party, Tiri was stepping foot onto the land that had blessed her family with wealth and adventures. Grandpa Alex navigated them through the hustle and bustle of the busy metropolitan area, teeming with people dressed in western clothing such as they were, and others that were wearing more traditional Arabic clothing. The men in their group all grumbled when Tiri and Laxmi spotted a little shop filled with delicate feminine robes, veils, and belly dancer girl looking outfits, glittering with semi-precious jewels and beads. After the girls were thoroughly satisfied with their purchases, they all headed on towards the residence that they would be staying at.  
Grandpa Alex, a thorough connoisseur of Egyptian life, had taken them to what looked like a total dumpy hole in the wall.  
“This is where we’ll be staying?” Manuel Casablancas asked in disgust.  
They were huddled around a lone door in what looked to be a deserted alleyway. The fine, swooping script of some Arabic was garishly tagged on the wall.  
"Appearances," Grandpa Alex said cheerily, unlocking the door, "can be deceiving!" He opened the door with a flourish. In they stepped to an expanse of luxury. "I bought this place years ago and renovated the inside. It used to be a seedy nightclub. Now the seediness on the outside is just a façade and the inside is a bit of an oasis for a hot and sandy explorer to tuck into and get some much needed rest."  
"Very clever, Alex," said Raul Casablancas, impressed. He stepped into the room and set down his luggage; after regaining their wits about them from the mindboggling unexpected elegance everyone else did the same.  
"There’s three levels, with two bedrooms each on the two upper floors and one bedroom on the main floor. So have at it!" Grandpa Alex said, walking into the kitchen to stalk the cupboards with fruit, sweetbreads and other goods that he had bought while they were walking through the local markets.  
Tiri and Laxmi ended up rooming together on the top floor, with Manuel Casablancas taking the neighboring room on the same floor; Tiri’s father and uncle took the two mid-floor bedrooms, and Raul Casablancas took the bedroom on the main floor after Grandpa Alex told everyone that he preferred to keep a vigilant post close to the door anyways, and that, besides, he found the beds much too soft for his aging back and found the stiff futon couch much more to his liking.  
After putting their luggage away Tiri and Laxmi tried on their new outfits that they had bought at the little robe shop.  
"Are you supposed to wear anything under the robes?" Tiri asked while shifting the hem of her sensible black robes this way and that.  
"Not if you want to get lucky," Laxmi replied cheekily while pulling a shimmering piece of cloth over her head and situating it over her chest. Little bells tinkled on her exotic top.  
Tiri rolled her eyes, having meant should she still wear pants and a shirt under the robes. A lack of knickers was never in the question. “Well in that case I’d be much more worried about the possibility of getting sand in my bum than getting a lover under my gown,” Tiri said, easing on the elaborately bejeweled veil that went with the black gown. She mentally noted that she would indeed wear pants and a shirt under the robes, figuring that at some point the long trailing hems of the robes would get on her nerves while she was climbing stairs to monuments and the like. “And did you get anything that isn’t toddler sized? We’re going to be traveling through the hot desert with the sun constantly on us.”  
"Relax, grandma. I got a few robes to go with my half dozen kinky belly dancer outfits. I’m so making you borrow some of these while we’re here, Ms. Prim and Proper. You can model them for Manuel," she added breathily, laughing at Tiri’s shocked expression.  
"You’re such a tart," Tiri shot back, her shock melting into a smile.  
"I’m not the one modeling belly dancer outfits for a sexy film star across the hall."  
"Uh, when have I done that? That’d be never. If anyone is going to do that, it’d be you."  
"Well if you don’t claim dibs real soon I will!"  
"Fine by me," Tiri said with an amused giggle, taking her robes and veil off and then fluffing her hair back into place while looking at her appearance in a mirror hanging on the wall. She pulled her fingers through her fringe, which, because of the natural curl to her hair, was flipping outwards in an imitation of Farrah Fawcett from her Charlie’s Angels days. It sprung back into place and she gave up trying to tame it. “There’s something a bit off about that man. Earlier I asked him what were some good acting techniques to help me prepare for my role and he said sit ups and squats.”  
"Ooooh. I like them dim-witted and gorgeous. Dibs!" Laxmi called out while pulling her regular clothes back on as well.  
The girls primped in front of the mirror for a minute, fixing their eyeliner and mascara and putting on fresh coats of lip balm. Once they fixed their flight-rumpled selves they stepped out of the room to head towards the kitchen to munch on some of the fruit and baked goods that Grandpa Alex had bought. On their way to the stairs they peered into Manuel Casablancas’ room because the door was wide open. Manuel was doing sit ups. ‘And no doubt it’s squats next after this,’ Tiri thought. Manuel was still wearing a false mustache and turban that he had put on to disguise himself from rabid fans. The mustache was slightly misaligned. He looked utterly ridiculous. When he saw them staring at him he flexed a bicep and kissed it, winking at them before getting back to his workout.  
Tiri waited until they were halfway down the stairs before she patted Laxmi’s shoulder and said, “Yep, he’s all yours.”  
When Tiri and Laxmi reached the kitchen they were greeted by her Uncle Will, Grandpa Alex and Raul Casablancas. The filmmaker had changed into a tropical looking shirt, Bermuda shorts and a fanny pack—very different than the formal attire he wore to her birthday party. At her appraising look, he explained that most film directors dressed badly. “It’s all part of the job description,” he said half-seriously.  
Grandpa Alex passed Tiri and Laxmi bowls of pitted dates and figs drizzled in honey. As they ate, he explained their agenda to them.  
"Today I thought we would just take it easy and brush up on our history. The Cairo Museum of Antiquities is something that will probably be of interest to you all because it was one of Tiri’s great grandmother’s favorite haunts, and it houses most of Egypt’s finest pieces of history," he said, winking at Tiri. "How does that sound to you Mr. Casablancas?"  
"That sounds wonderful," Raul Casablancas answered, sounding totally charmed.  
"Does anyone know when Dad and Manuel will be coming down?" Tiri asked while polishing off her fruit, anxious to get to the museum.  
"Oh, Manuel really isn’t into this sort of thing. I’ll fill him in later. He’s doing a bit of acting exercises right now," Raul Casablancas said.  
"And Brad and I are going to scope out some of our investments while we’re staying around the city," Uncle Will chimed in.  
Tiri tried to swallow down the disappointment that she felt.  
"Well," Grandpa Alex said briskly. "Guess that leaves us four then. Let the history lesson commence!"  
The Cairo Museum of Antiquities was a distinctly regal building of massive proportions. Tiri could barely watch her step as they passed perfectly preserved ancient Egyptian statues guarding the entrance. Grandpa Alex was talking with gusto as he walked along the exhibits with a riveted Raul Casablancas, which is why they didn’t notice when Tiri simply stopped in her place and stared at a colossal statue of Ramses II. Laxmi gave the statue a fleeting glance. “Big,” was her comment before she moved on to a display of ancient Egyptian jewelry.  
It was as Tiri was trying to make sense of why she felt such a strong feeling of déjà vu all of a sudden that she saw him.  
He was covered almost entirely in midnight black robes, the only other spot of color on him a dark grey sash cinched around his waist. There was a black scarf around his neck, which she imagined he used to cover his mouth and nose during desert storms, and a black headdress covering his head. Cascading down from the headdress was silky black waves of shoulder length hair, which framed a very handsome bronze face. She traced the high cheekbones, the nice inky black eyebrows, and perfectly trimmed mustache and beard with her eyes, noting that he did not at all look ridiculous like Manuel Casablancas…  
This man, in fact, looked positively dangerous.  
The X of an ammunition belt strapped across his broad chest, scimitar, and the tattooed ancient Egyptian hierogyphics and Arabic script on his cheeks and forehead might have had something to do with it.  
He was talking with what looked to be a curator of the museum. She couldn’t make out what he was saying because he spoke so quietly but she was sure he was speaking Arabic. She could hear a certain lilt and roll of the tongue every few muffled syllables.  
Suddenly he paused in his speech and straightened, turning his head to look at—  
Her!  
Tiri’s eyes widened in alarm and she looked away, trying to seem interested in an ancient papyrus canoe that at one time had floated down the Nile. Her cheeks were burning in mortification because he had caught her staring.  
She felt his gaze burning into her and she blushed even harder. She was starting to feel a little underdressed in her cotton camisole, skinny jeans and ballet flats—certainly she looked silly to this imposing man.  
She discreetly looked up to see if he had lost interest and had gone back to his conversation—but no, he was still staring! His dark brown, almost black, eyes bore into her. Something about his expression made a shiver of heat roll down her spine and settle low into her belly. Goosebumps rose to her flesh.  
All Tiri knew was that she had let herself get trapped into his gaze this time, and couldn’t for the life of her look away.  
'Protector of the City of the Dead' she transcribed from the Arabic tattoos on his face.  
She felt a tug on her arm. Laxmi was leading her to catch up with Grandpa Alex and Raul Casablancas. Tiri craned her neck so that she could still look at the dark warrior. His gaze never wavered. They stared at each other until a sharp turn into another room blocked them from one another.  
'A Medjai,” she thought, dazed; her heart racing.  
The feeling that she was being watched never completely left her the whole time she was at the Cairo Museum of Antiquities.


	5. Chapter 5

Namesake  
Chapter 5  
That night Tiri dreamt…  
She felt the resistance give way as her feet made a path through countless grains of sand. There were bangles made of solid gold around her wrists and gold bands twined around her biceps. An anklet with little gold disks jangled as she trekked along. On she walked for hours it seemed, not encountering anything but the sand beneath her feet and the bright, burning sun overhead.  
She stopped when she came to an earthenware cup filled with water.  
Something told her that it was no ordinary cup, and that, despite the fact that the sun was blazing down upon her and this object, the water inside would remain cool and refreshing. She excitedly ran to the cup, intent to quench her hot, dry throat-but in her haste she accidentally knocked it over, spilling its precious contents into the scorching sand.  
The water absorbed into the unforgiving earth with a hiss. Tiri cried out in frustration and beat the sand with her fists, sending little grains to fly into the air before landing harmlessly back down to the earth and onto her. However—when the grains of sand landed they suddenly burst into fat water droplets, splashing her skin.  
Tiri straightened up and gave a gasp of surprise.  
There now stood a woman where the cup of water once was. She had pin-straight black tresses, which were interwoven with shimmering droplet-shaped diamonds, and wore a golden sheath dress. She was tall, much taller than a mortal, with impeccable skin of a gleaming olive color. Her beautiful dark eyes held an air of sweetness about them that was mirrored in her actions. She held out the earthenware cup to Tiri. It was again brimming with fresh cool water.  
Tiri made a choked sound, her throat too scorched and dusty to thank the Goddess properly, before she took the cup in between shaking hands and drank deeply. The water was sweet and so achingly satisfying. When she was finished she beamed up at her savior, hugging the tall Goddess around her middle. She smiled and enveloped Tiri in a protective embrace before gently setting her back down, brushing her hand along Tiri’s throat. She gave Tiri a meaningful look. Tiri felt something comfortably heavy settle around her throat and looked down to see Nefertiri’s Usekh collar.  
She looked back up to the Goddess Isis to question her meaning but she was gone. It was at this moment that Tiri woke up from her dream.  
Tiri’s hand automatically went to her throat, and she was surprised to feel the cool metal of Nefertiri’s necklace there. She hadn’t put it back on since the night of her party. Well, at least she didn’t think she did. ‘Did I take it out and put it on before I fell asleep last night?’ she thought. Her head was still a little fuzzy from sleep. ‘Had to have done that,’ she rationalized.  
She ran her fingers through her hair, her brow creasing in confusion when she encountered something soft and delicate. A perfect white lotus fell out of her hair and into her grasp.  
This…she could not explain. She peered around the room, noticing that Laxmi was still fast asleep next to her in bed. The window was wide open, the cotton curtain floating in a gentle breeze.  
Maybe Laxmi had put the necklace on her and the flower in her hair as a practical joke? But that didn’t make sense because Laxmi had fallen asleep before her. Tiri had tossed and turned (a lot longer than she would like to admit) thinking of the mysterious Medjai warrior before sleep had finally overtaken her. Laxmi had long since fallen into a gentle rhythm of sleep by the time Tiri had found rest.  
'Grandpa Alex must have done it as a sweet gesture,' she thought.  
She smiled and placed the lotus back into her hair and went down stairs. Her nose led her to a sweet cooking smell in the kitchen where she knew her grandfather would be. He had always been an early riser.  
"Good morning Grandpa," Tiri said cheerfully.  
Grandpa Alex turned to her with a bright smile, pulling out raisin studded cinnamon bread from the oven. “Good morning Tiri. You’re wearing the necklace again I see. Oh and why that’s a gorgeous flower. Where did you get it?”  
"Oh like you don’t know," she teased.  
Her grandfather started slicing the loaf of warmed sweet bread, shaking his head in the negative. “No, I must have missed seeing you buy it at the market?”  
Tiri felt her heart rate pick up. Her grandfather had no clue either… And it couldn’t have been her father and uncle because they had never come home last night, no doubt shacking up for the night with some of their “investments.” That left only Raul and Manuel Casablancas-but she thought either option was highly doubtful. Her mind strayed to the opened window in her room…  
"Yeah, Grandpa. I guess you did miss it. I bought it at a flower stall near the shop where Laxmi and I got the robes," she found herself saying.  
"You have exquisite taste, my dear girl," he said, handing her a slice of sweetbread.  
'Someone does,' Tiri thought. 'But it's not me.'

/

As everyone else had gotten up they all remarked about the beautiful flower Tiri had put into her hair—but none gave any indication that they had been the one to come into her room at night and put it there.  
Her father and uncle came strolling in around noon. Both had perfectly finessed their jet black hair. The only indication that gave them away to being out all night was the scruffy stubble on their cheeks and jaws. By this time everyone else had been up for hours and irritated about the fact that their plans to visit the pyramids at Giza had been interrupted. The two men came into the house to a room full of death glares.  
"I see we’ve all been stewing around for a while," her uncle hedged.  
Tiri’s father cut in smoothly. “So we were out on a few business matters with some associates of ours and you will never guess who we ran into.” He didn’t give anyone enough time to answer him with a snippy remark. “We just so happened to have met Dr. Terence Bey III.” His eyes widened for a moment for dramatic emphasis while he focused in on Raul Casablancas. “You know…the great grandson of the curator in our stories who operated the Cairo Museum of Antiquities and who also so heroically gave his own life while that terror of a mummy was running amok? Apparently Dr. Bey III has taken in his family footsteps and is the current curator of the museum. He had noticed that you all had been into the museum yesterday and would absolutely love to meet you. He invited us to a party over at his estate tonight. Many Egyptologists will be there.”  
Raul Casablancas’ face had gradually turned into a beam of anticipation. “Why, what a wonderful turn of events! I’m sure he will have a lot of background information to fill us in with on Egypt and his great grandfather! I’d love to go! What do you say, Alex? Do you think that we can put off the pyramids until tomorrow?”  
Grandpa Alex assessed Tiri and Laxmi’s expressions. Laxmi looked blasé about the whole thing, not caring one way or the other while Tiri gave a nod of encouragement.  
"Sure, Raul, it sounds like a plan," Grandpa Alex said. "I haven’t gotten the chance to meet the new curator myself so this should be an enjoyable evening."  
Tiri remembered from the stories her grandfather told her that, besides tending to his curator job, Dr. Terence Bey had also been in alliance with the Medjai. If Dr. Terence Bey III really had followed in his family’s footsteps then he would more than likely be in alliance with the Medjai as well.  
She thought back to yesterday and the dark Medjai warrior with the heated gaze. For the life of her she didn’t know why but she was infinitely curious about him. Grandpa Alex’s stories about the Medjai and his good friend Ardeth Bay had always fascinated her, but actually having met one was a whole new experience and now she was obsessed with finding out more about him. (And, if she was honest with herself, she would admit to the fact that she also secretly hoped that the handsome Medjai warrior would for some reason be lurking around Dr. Bey III’s mansion tonight.)  
"Great!" her father exclaimed. "Now this will be a rather formal affair so it’ll be dinner jackets for the men and evening gowns for the ladies."  
"Did everyone pack their emergency formal attire?" her Uncle Will asked in a voice so grave that it was comical.  
If there was one thing that Tiri and her Great Grandmother Evie had in common—it was their inability to pack lightly. She had a whole trunk devoted to vintage lovelies that used to belong to her Great Grandma Evie and her Grandma Lin. It also turned out that the Casablancas men along with Tiri’s father, uncle, and grandpa were always prepared for formal events as well. Tiri smiled at the 007-ness of it all…  
They arrived at Dr. Bey III’s mansion at half past seven. He greeted them at the door himself. Tiri could see why he and her dad and uncle got on so well the night before. They were all just the same. Dashing George Clooney good looks, impeccably dressed, and had more money to throw around than they knew what to do with. He kissed her and Laxmi’s hands in greeting, his gaze lingering on Tiri’s necklace.  
"Good to have you, good to have you! Do come in everyone! There’s a rather heated debate that’s just started about who was the greatest pharaoh of them all. My vote is with Ramses II," he said as an aside while ushering them in.  
They walked into a massive formal living area as richly furnished in Egyptian relics as the Cairo Museum of Antiquities itself. The place was buzzing with scholars and archeologists alike. Some Tiri could tell more resembled Indiana Jones during their field hours, like her Grandpa Alex, while others were more the bespectacled bookish types with soft hands. The room was also teeming with all of the powerful men’s beautiful consorts.  
Dr. Bey III introduced them to the room at large. “Everyone, attention please! We are honored with the presence of Dr. Alexander O’Connell himself tonight, along with his lovely family, and a few special friends of his. Please help make them feel welcome.”  
Immediately a dozen or so intellectuals were upon them, rabid for her grandfather’s opinion on their debate. Tiri found it rather funny. Here in this circle of people her grandfather was the celebrity, while the famous director Raul Casablancas and his film star son had to keep telling people over and over again what they did. Raul Casablancas she could tell was refreshed by the anonymity, using his status as a wallflower to absorb all of the information in and flatter the scholars by endlessly asking questions about what they knew about ancient Egyptian history—which was undoubtedly a lot. However, his son was grasping at straws, hitting on the exotic women by asking them if they knew who he was. When they said they didn’t he would have to explain his status as a celebrity to them, which to Tiri made him seem like a bit of a prat, but it didn’t seem to put the women off. It had to be his good looks.  
Laxmi was doing well off herself, Tiri noticed with a grin, hedging to bet that by the time that they left Egypt the raven-haired vixen would leave an exorbitant amount of scholars heartbroken.  
Tiri kept finding that she herself would peer into the crowd over and over again, looking for the man with the Arabic tattoos on his face while she listened to the intelligent conversation taking precedence around her. When she realized what she was doing, she asked the person nearest to her where the restroom was. She needed to get a hold of herself.  
She took a few cleansing breaths while in the bathroom, trying to vanish the images of her father shamelessly flirting with women only a third of his age, and the images of the Casablancas men entirely—because they were a symbol of her not taking control of her own life and voicing what she really wanted. She left the bathroom when it didn’t work and aimlessly wandered the halls of Dr. Bey III’s lavish home.  
A grand atrium-style library took her fancy when she was passing by, so she entered it. She glanced up at the beautiful glass roof before she playfully spun around and decided to find a tome in the direction of which she was facing when she stopped. Her stop overlooked a portion of the library with a bay window that was at least three times her height. She walked over and took in the breathtaking view overlooking the city. The sky was getting dusky and tiny twinkling lights throughout the city were flickering on. She closed her eyes and let the light breeze from an opened window hit her face before she turned her attention to the dusty texts surrounding her. She closed her eyes and blindly pointed until she came upon a book.  
It was written in ancient Egyptian, so it was pointless for her to try to understand it’s meaning, but she did so love looking at the hieroglyphs. She flipped through the pages, getting absorbed in the intricate characters.  
"Just like an O’Connell to go looking for danger."  
Tiri just about leapt out of her skin, whirling around to face the intruder who had interrupted the silence. She already knew without looking that it was the dark warrior from yesterday. The rich lilt of his voice had given him away. Tiri felt her pulse race.  
"It’s just a book," she said, taking in his appearance. He was leaning against a portion of the opened bay window. Without the turban today, he was dressed in midnight black robes embroidered with an elegant tapestry of silver Arabic script. He looked very, very good, and with every step nearer he took to her the silver on his robes shimmered.  
Tiri found herself slowly backing up into the bookcase behind her, with the Medjai warrior slowly stalking towards her. His dark eyes seared into hers when he said, “You of all people should know that harm can indeed come from reading from a book, Tiri.”  
"How do you know my name?" Tiri asked defiantly, getting the feeling that he was making fun of her and her family. "Do I know you?"  
He laughed. The sound was deep and husky. She liked it despite the fact that she was starting to find the man a bit insufferable now that he was talking to her.  
He shrugged. “I am a friend of the family.”  
"Care to elaborate?" she asked, arching a brow.  
A small, devilish smile quirked his lips, as if he found this situation entirely too fun. “You can call me Medjai.”  
She let out a scoff. “Fine, Medjai. Do please go about your business and let me go about mine. I was reading a book and you interrupted me.”  
He pretended like he didn’t hear her dismissal of him. “So you can read ancient Egyptian?”  
Tiri felt her cheeks heat up. “Well, no. But that’s not the point.”  
"You should learn it," he said, the spark of amusement still there. "Knowing the type of trouble your family gets into, it might be beneficial to you."  
Tiri gave him a dark look. She told him in Arabic that if he didn’t leave her alone she was going to shove the Egyptian tome up a certain part of his anatomy.  
Again, he ignored her rudeness. “So what other languages do you speak besides Arabic and English?” this time he asked in his mother tongue.  
Taken off guard, she found herself answering him without ire in English. “Italian, French, Spanish, Mandarin and Chinese.”  
"That is a lot. Tell me, why is it that you have taken it upon yourself to learn so many languages?" Something about his demeanor made her feel as if he was indulging her. He had an air about him that indicated that he knew all of the answers to the questions he was asking her, but he was asking anyways out of civility. But maybe that was just his know-it-all attitude. As he spoke he guided the tome out of her hand, putting it back in its place on the bookshelf. He kept his hand on the bookshelf, effectively pinning her in against the wall with one arm.  
She cleared her throat. “Um, well…I go back and forth between my Mum and Dad’s every summer, and, mostly, I get bored so I made a game where every summer I start to learn a new language.” When she stopped talking he nodded his head as if to say ‘go on.’ “…I’ve always known English and French because of my parents, and I took Italian and Spanish in school. My Grandma Lin helped me learn Mandarin and Chinese before she passed away.”  
"And who helped you learn Arabic?"  
"My best friend’s mum, Jhumpa. She’s Indian, but her husband was Egyptian and she adopted the language as her own. Laxmi, my best friend, doesn’t speak it fluently. She was never very interested by it much but I always thought it was pretty."  
"You have a gift," he concluded.  
Tiri was taken aback by his assessment. “No,” she brushed off. “Just have too much time on my hands.”  
"Time is never wasted if you use it to learn something new. Why have you not learned ancient Egyptian? Your grandfather has known it since he was a little boy."  
"My father expressly forbids my grandfather from teaching it to me. He says it’s pointless to learn a dead language."  
"I see," he said, staring at her. "So it is not a lack of interest on your part, I presume? If someone were willing to teach you ancient Egyptian, you would rise to the occasion?"  
"Yes," Tiri stated breathlessly, staring back. She wondered how he had so fluidly cracked her open and made her confess her inner world.  
"You know the ancient Egyptians believed that at the beginning of time a lotus flower grew out of the water and bloomed, and in that blossom was the sun-god, Ra." His eyes flickered to her hair before his gaze swept back to hers. He gently brushed the flower in her hair, trailing his fingers down along her hairline, her jaw line, her neck and then her collarbone. His touch was like a live-wire to her senses. So familiar… When his fingertips trailed along her necklace he spoke again. "And this is the necklace of Princess Nefertiri. She was a priestess of Isis. The most powerful and protective Goddess… You kept them on."  
Tiri’s eyes fluttered open. She hadn’t realized that she had closed them. She made the connection between what he was doing and what he was saying. Her eyes widened in shock. “It was you who came into my room last night! It was you who put the flower and necklace on me!”  
The Medjai warrior chuckled, closing the gap between their bodies. He slid a hand into her long caramel colored hair, fisting it. Tiri gasped. “What are you do-” He lent his head down and gently kissed her, clutching the fabric of her gold dress at her hip, bringing her body against him with an ease that excited her and scared her at the same time. His tongue slid against the seam of her lips, begging her for entrance, and she found herself giving in to him willingly. He moaned softly and deepened the kiss, suddenly kissing her with an uncontrolled passion.  
"Tiri…" he moaned, pressing her more firmly into the bookshelf, slanting his head so he could receive her mouth more fully. His taste was dark and stormy with passion. So heady. She was drowning in him, and coming up for air was out of the question. She kissed him back just as ardently, just as roughly, and he sucked in a breath, thrilled with the shift of power-play. When she playfully nipped his bottom lip he exhaled a shaky breath through his nose and pulled apart from her lips, staring at her with lust-darkened eyes. He clenched her hips with both hands this time, sliding her up the wall. Her dress bunched up around her waist and his body fell in between her thighs. He kissed her again with urgency.  
Her body was responding to his so naturally. The hard little peaks of her nipples were aching with need against the hard planes of his chest. She moaned into his mouth, inflaming him with her pleasured response.  
Suddenly she heard her name being called—and it wasn’t by the man who had her in a compromising position against the wall. It was her grandfather. She stiffened. The Medjai warrior heard him too because he groaned and released her, giving her one last chaste kiss on the lips, unable to help himself. She straightened her dress then looked up to see where the Medjai warrior would go—but he had already vanished, the creak of the window the only sign of where he had gone.  
"There you are Tiri," Grandpa Alex said. "I thought I’d lost you."  
"No, Grandpa," Tiri said, trying to sound as collected as possible. "Just doing a bit of exploring."  
Her grandfather smiled. “You are definitely an O’Connell.”


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
Previously…  
"There you are Tiri," Grandpa Alex said. "I thought I’d lost you."  
"No, Grandpa," Tiri said, trying to sound as collected as possible. "Just doing a bit of exploring."  
Her grandfather smiled. “You are definitely an O’Connell.”  
Tiri bit her lip so a nervous squeak didn’t come out of her mouth. She didn’t think his definition of ‘exploring’ in this case quite matched up with hers…  
She swallowed hard as her mind wandered back to what she’d been doing only moments ago. Oh Gods! She’d really done that hadn’t she? She’d kissed a complete stranger!  
A very arrogant, know-it-all, dangerous, mysterious, handsome, passionate… Oh wait, where was she going with this? Oh, right—a stranger! Who was also apparently stalking her and was a member of a secret order that fervently guarded an infamously wrathful mummy that Tiri didn’t believe in!  
Oh what had she gotten herself into?  
"So which book struck your fancy in here, Dove?" her grandfather asked her.  
Tiri shook herself of her troubling thoughts and placed her finger on the volume. Her grandfather took his glasses out of his suit pocket and put them on, peering at the book.  
"Oh my. This is a book of ancient Egyptian curses. You know, little things, like getting back at your neighbor by doing a spell to make his grain dry up and that sort of thing. But still, nasty stuff. Best put this back where we found it," her grandfather said, decisively putting the tome back on its shelving.  
Tiri gaped, hearing the dark warriors words drift through her mind.  
‘You of all people should know that harm can indeed come from reading from a book, Tiri.’  
Is that why the Medjai warrior had been so intent to get that book back on its shelf earlier? Right before he kissed the daylights out of her…  
"Tiri, my dear girl, are you all right? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost."  
"It’s all just make believe isn’t, Grandpa? I mean, there’s no such thing as curses and mummies, right? Your friend Ardeth Bay, he was really just a desert tribesman that you and the great grandparents sat around a campfire with, taking turns making up fantastical hokum stories with, right? There isn’t an order of the Medjai obsessively guarding some fabled City of the Dead! Hamunaptra and Ahm Shere don’t exist! Tell me,” Tiri said, babbling.  
"I’m sure Ahm Shere seemed very real to your grandfather when he was moments away from death with the cursed Bracelet of Anubis on his wrist," Dr. Terence Bey III said as he shut the heavy front doors to the library, cloaking them in privacy.  
He had a gun drawn on them when he turned around to face them.  
Tiri felt her blood run cold.  
"Now Terence," her grandfather said cautiously. "What’s this all about?"  
"I really thought you had more sense than this, Dr. O’Connell," Dr. Bey III said, drawing nearer to them. "Hasn’t your family caused enough bloodshed and mayhem as it is? Why bring that filmmaker here? He will expose the secret that we’ve been guarding for thousands of years."  
"Oh come off it," Grandpa Alex said with venom. "He makes summer box office hits—not fact-based documentaries on the History Channel! Put down the gun. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of story-telling."  
"Wasn’t it all just fairytales and hokum to your mother when she heard the stories? It didn’t stop her from tramping around the place, spouting curses to awaken the dead!"  
Tiri gasped, paralyzed with fear, as the armed man suddenly grasped her and pointed the gun under her jaw. “I need you to promise me that you will disband this whole expedition. Go home. And cut all ties to that film.”  
"Unhand her! She’s an innocent girl!" her grandfather bellowed, standing tall and balling his fists in rage. "This isn’t your place, messenger! If the Medjai have a problem with it, let them come for me!"  
“Let her go, Terence,” a commanding voice spoke in Arabic.  
Everyone’s heads whipped around to where the newcomer stood near the window. The dark warrior crossed the room in swift strides, his Thompson raised at the curator. Dr. Bey III’s eyes widened as he looked at the chieftain of the Medjai. “Bu- but—”  
"But nothing," the warrior said fiercely in English. "As the Chieftain of the Medjai I order you to release her. They are no threat to—"  
But at that moment Tiri felt a warmth envelope her around her shoulders and throat—where the necklace and Dr. Bey III were grasping her. A quick flash of light burst forth from the jewelry and Dr. Bey III was repelled back, clutching his hand as if he was in a serious amount of pain.  
"Oh Gods, it burns!" he shrieked in agony. The hand that had been clutching her by the throat was covered in angry blistering welts.  
Tiri’s eyes widened in fear as she stared at the crumpled over curator. She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and stumbled over to her grandfather. Like a fish out of water she gaped at the dark warrior, the man she had kissed not even twenty minutes ago, as if he could explain to her what the Sons of the Pharaohs had just happened here!  
The Medjai chieftain looked at Dr. Bey III on the ground pitilessly before pocketing the man’s dropped gun and focusing his attention on Tiri and her grandfather. “He will be fine. It was nothing more than he deserved.” His voice switched to concern, and he stepped up to Tiri, his hands hovering over her neck. “You are not hurt, are you?”  
Despite herself, Tiri felt a flush of warmth at the care and gentleness in his voice. “No, I’m fine. I think… What just happened here?”  
Her grandfather stepped in between her and the Medjai warrior. “I think, my dear Tiri, what just happened here is that all of your questions have been answered… Isn’t that right, Ardeth Bay?”  
Tiri’s eyes widened in shock. What?  
The dark warrior let out a breath, his dark eyes looking pensively at a spot on the floor before he looked up at Grandpa Alex with a wry smile. “Yes, I think you are right, my old friend.” His gaze caught hers. “The Medjai and the curse we protect are both very real… And that necklace you wear…I believe that powerful protection spells have been cast upon it so that no harm may come to you.”  
Tiri felt as if all of the air had been knocked out of her. All that came out of her mouth in her shocked state was a squeaky, “Ardeth Bay?”  
"Yes… Ardeth Bay," Grandpa Alex said conversationally. "Say, last time I saw you I was about ten and you looked about oh, say, twenty-six or so—now, here I am, well into my eighties and you look about oh, say, twenty-six or so. Do tell me, what is your secret?"  
Ardeth Bay did not look amused in the least—neither did her grandfather for that matter. The Medjai warrior answered stoically, “Long ago a spell was cast upon me. It is something that I must contend with on my own.”  
The tone of his voice made it clear that he would talk no further on the subject.  
Tiri’s world was spinning. She just had a gun pointed at her, her necklace bloody well singed the hell out of a man, and Ardeth Bay was alive and still young and she’d kissed him! ”I think I need to lie down.”  
Immediately both men were at her side, holding her to make sure she didn’t fall. Her grandfather eyed the dark warrior. “I think I can take it from here, Ardeth.”  
Ardeth Bay straightened. The cool mask of a leader was back on his face. “And I will take care of things here,” he said, gesturing to the whimpering curator. “You need not worry about any more meddling by the Medjai and our alliances. You are honored friends.”  
Grandpa Alex nodded his head, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. With the arm he wasn’t supporting Tiri with he grasped the tall warrior’s shoulder in a brotherly manner. “Glad to hear it, old friend. Glad to hear it. I’m sure it goes without saying that I will be seeing you soon?”  
Ardeth Bay slowly smiled. “Indeed, it goes without saying.”  
With a parting nod Grandpa Alex guided a shaken Tiri out of the room to go collect the others. When they were at the doors Tiri looked back into the library one last time.  
Once again she found the dark warrior staring at her.  
She blushed and whipped her head back forward towards her exit. ‘This did NOT just happen,’ she thought to herself.  
But really it had, hadn’t it? She’d kissed Ardeth Bay.


	7. Chapter 7

The Mummy Fic: Namesake, Ch 7  
Disclaimer: I do not own The Mummy series and do not make any profit off of this.  
Namesake  
Chapter 7  
Getting the others in their group to hurry along and leave Dr. Bey III’s mansion proved quite difficult. It seemed that everyone else’s night hadn’t been as trying as Grandpa Alex’s and Tiri’s had been. But once they caught the drift that Tiri was indeed in the middle of a nervous breakdown they finally relented and made the trip back to Grandpa Alex’s place in the city. To everyone’s questions and concerns over Tiri her grandfather vaguely attributed it to “girl troubles” so that the Medjai’s secret was kept intact. Her grandfather felt fine about having the director have his fun with thinking the O’Connell family history was the stuff of myths and legends—but his honor would not allow him to actually let on to the fact that every tale he told him was indeed REAL. The story about needing to leave because of “girl troubles” shut all of the men up, but Laxmi was no fool…  
So Tiri spilled her guts to her as soon as they were safely alone in their room.  
Laxmi had been grinning at Tiri like a Cheshire cat for ten minutes straight now.  
"I tell you that I was held at gunpoint, that my necklace channeled some weird powers from the beyond—burning a man—and you’re stuck on the fact that I got snogged against a wall?”  
"Well from the way you described it it sounds as if you were about two seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes off and shagging against the wall. I’m justthunderstruck is all. My sweet, chaste little Tiri is finally taking a walk on the wild side! So tell me, how is it to kiss a sexy desert warrior who is in all actuality older than your grandfather but doesn’t look it?”  
"Ooh get stuffed!" Tiri huffed, bopping her best friend with a pillow.  
"You’re totally blushing!" Laxmi chided unfazed by the pillow beating. "It was incredible, wasn’t it?"  
“Laxmi! Whether or not it was enjoyable is beside the point. I kissed Ardeth Bay, meaning that he’s real and the Medjai is real and curses and mummies and immortalityare all real!”  
"Yeah," her best friend said. "I know. It’s ok to believe, Tiri. I’ve seen how you get when your grandfather tells us those stories. You’ve always wanted them to be real. You’ve got your proof—you bloody well kissed a man that should be long dead." Laxmi smiled impishly. "Seems to me like it’s your time to jump into the adventure."  
Tiri let the pillow slip from her grasp. “How is it that you can just take this all in stride so easily?”  
"Because I’ve always known that you’re destined for greatness!" Laxmi said while adamantly gesticulating her arms to purvey her seriousness. "You’ve grown up to this privileged life and yet you’re still humble. You’ve tried your hardest at your studies and learned so many languages without a single person pushing you to it. You really are something special. And besides, you’re an O’Connell! The stuff of legends runs through your blood! You deserve romance and an adventure! And as your best friend, I deserve the satisfaction of hearing every single detail." Laxmi grinned. "Starting with your steamy kiss with Ardeth Bay."  
Tiri was quiet amazed by the level of sincerity to her best friend’s words. It made her want to believe. She felt herself soften, and she relented. “It was the most thrilling moment of my life,” she admitted shyly. “Overwhelming, but thrilling. I felt like he knew exactly how to kiss me, how to touch me, to make me putty in his hands… I’ve never felt so alive in all my life as I did during that kiss.”  
Laxmi sighed wistfully. “Wow. Do you think he’ll come to you during the night again?”  
Tiri felt a shiver of anticipation roll down her spine at the thought.  
But the reaction had the effect of sobering her.  
'Oh! Do get a hold of yourself,' she thought, suddenly embarrassed with herself. She didn't like the fact that she was not in control of her reactions when it came to him. He was an insufferable know-it-all cursed with youth! He was a paradox that should not exist! And, she should totally not feel thrilled at the prospect of a dark warrior breaking and entering her room in the middle of the night! She should be creeped out! (Should being the key word here.)  
Not being in control made her defensive. “That’s so morbid, Laxmi! I mean, what do I know about the man other than he’s sworn to protect some ancient secret and he’s got no qualms with getting fresh with a girl?”  
Laxmi giggled, rolling her eyes at her difficult friend. “You know absolutely nothing about the man other than that. But that’s the point.” She wiggled her eyebrows.  
Tiri huffed, climbing into bed with a scowl. ‘Stupid, arrogant Medjai,’ she thought grumpily. ‘It was just a kiss anyway.’

/

This time Tiri was wide awake when Ardeth Bay stealthily climbed in through the third story window. She was about to scream bloody murder but he realized what she was going to do a moment before she did and reflexively clamped his hand over her mouth.  
So she bit the flesh of his palm. Or, tried to—but she didn’t realize how difficult it would be to get a firm grip… He raised an eyebrow, apparently unfazed by it physically but amused by her efforts.  
"If I take my hand away from your mouth will you promise not to scream?" he whispered in her ear.  
His close proximity and sensuously deep voice were making her senses go hay-wire, which further incensed her because her body was being traitorous. She nodded, intending to scream the moment he lifted his hand.  
He seemed to assess her answer, and found it somehow lacking because he used his other hand to get the black scarf from around his neck and then proceeded to use it to gag her! Once she was gagged he threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and took her into the attached bathroom, making sure to close the door and lock it.  
"I am sorry that our meetings have left something to be desired thus far," he said with a rueful chuckle, sitting her down on the sink counter. When she made a grab for the gag he quickly closed his hands around her wrists and held them down to the counter. She might as well have been in an iron lock. All that her herculean efforts to break from his grasp did for her was place her in deeper trouble, because in her struggle her legs had splayed a little and he had fallen in between them where he stood. He took a steadying breath but didn’t move. "You see, as a Medjai chieftain I am much better at war tactics and sneak attacks than I am at doing things the civilized way. But I have no time for the civilized way because right now the balance between good and evil will once again be put to the test, and you are at the center of it."  
Tiri’s eyes widened.  
"You must wear Nefertiri’s necklace always. Do not ever take it off. It will keep you safe. Do you understand?"  
Tiri shook her head no.  
Ardeth Bay sighed. “As long as you wear Nefertiri’s necklace no harm can come to you. I cannot tell you what is to come, but I can prepare you for it.”  
The scared look in her eyes made him soften his tactic and he said, “You have to trust me,” while he untied the scarf from her mouth.  
She decided not to scream for now. She did want to understand what had happened earlier when her necklace had burned Dr. Bey III. “So what happened to Dr. Bey III earlier…that’s because it—the necklace—knew to protect me?”  
"Yes. At some point in time someone cast powerful spells of protection to that necklace and then gave it to you. Someone who probably had a vision of what is to come."  
"What?" she asked, trying to follow along. "Who?"  
"I cannot be certain," he said hesitantly, "but more than likely it was Evelyn O’Connell."  
"Great Grandma Evie?"  
"Yes. Keep your voice down," he said.  
Tiri eyed the makeshift gag, deciding to lower her voice. “And how do you know ‘what is to come’?” she asked in an incredulous whisper.  
"This I cannot tell you either," he said sounding frustrated.  
"It’s like talking in circles with you," Tiri said, realizing the absurdity of the situation. She was locked in a bathroom with an immortal Medjai chieftain who was talking to her in riddles and standing in between her legs. She blushed when she remembered that last part.  
"I am sorry for this," he said, unconsciously caressing her outer thighs in a soothing motion. She gaped at him for his forwardness. Something about the way he touched her…it was sensual but in a way that it was as if he were comfortable with her, as if he had done it thousands of times…  
"Why did you kiss me?"  
Her question seemed to sober him because he put his hands on the sink countertop; more neutral territory. But it gave him a predatory stance over her. He thought for a moment and then grinned. “How did O’Connell once put it? ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time?’”  
She went to slap him, but his reflexes were quicker. He had her by the wrist, and suddenly their faces were very close. Her breathing was erratic from the adrenaline of her sudden outburst. His eyes fell to her panting mouth. She watched Ardeth Bay’s eyes darken as she steadied her breathing, goosebumps suddenly rising to her flesh.  
He breathed out something in a language she did not recognize right before he kissed her. He pulled her roughly towards him, so that she was perched on the edge of the counter and her bare legs were spread wide now on either side of his waist. All of her sense had completely gone out the window, and she was kissing him back.  
It was so hot in Egypt that all she wore to bed was a nightshirt and knickers. Something she was all too aware of now that her body was flush against his. He moaned into her mouth, his battle roughened hands again grazing her thighs, and then her backside, before billowing up her shirt. She keened in pleasure as his hands skated over her flat tummy and ribcage before settling at her breasts. He started kissing down her throat as he rolled her pebbled nipples with his fingers. She arched into his touch.  
"Oh Tiri need to see you," he said in a voice aching with want. He slipped the material of her nightshirt over her head; she helped him along by raising her arms. Tiri was now in nothing but a pair of knickers before him.  
They both dragged in air through their lungs, and she trembled as she watched him drink in her almost completely bare form. His large, dark hands ghosted over the dips and valleys of her pale olive flesh. He reverently said the epithet in the language she did not recognize again before sliding down to draw her breast into his mouth.  
She cried out in pleasure. The hot wet suction of his mouth sent bolts of desire straight to her feminine core. She raked her hands through his silky black hair, urging him on. He alternated between sucking sweetly at her pleasure sensitive little peaks and then dragging his tongue around them in circles and darting licks.  
Tiri felt a sweet agony building at her core and she needed something. She needed more, more, more, more! She pulled him up to kiss her again while simultaneously pulling his black robes off his shoulders. He moaned into her mouth, it almost sounding like a growl in his desire driven state, and he helped bare his torso by pulling his black tunic over his head, which she had loosened from his pants.  
Tiri bit her lip as she took in his half nude form. He was beautiful. His bronze colored torso was rippling with the hard pectorals and cut abs of a lethal warrior. She noticed that even shirtless he was armed from the waist up; there was a thin leather strap across his chest with a gold and jewel encrusted dagger encased in it. He followed her gaze and chuckled, making quick work of whipping it off. He was now completely bare from the waist up, save for his Medjai medallion necklace, and was staring at her with a look of hunger that tightened her flushed skin even more. She raked her eyes over his handsome face and downwards, her gaze meticulously drawn to the silken black little hairs leading from under his bellybutton down to the cinched slate grey cloth knotted at his waist holding his pants in place. She shyly dared to look further and gasped when she took in the sight of his barely restrained arousal.  
There was a slight damp spot where the tip of his arousal was encased in the black cloth, weeping his hot, slick desire.  
Tiri dragged her eyes back up to his fathomless dark gaze. This time, he did growl, and was upon her again in an instant.  
It was like a rush of electric currents skittering along her sensitized flesh as the hard muscles of his chest crushed against her bare breasts. She gasped for air and then they were kissing furiously again. His hands were clutching at her hips, pressing her dampened heat against his thinly covered hardness. His fingers slipped under the straps of her panties, and with a simple tug they were torn from her body.  
"Ardeth," she whimpered into his mouth, knowing nothing but need at this moment.  
He sucked in a breath and broke away from her mouth, drawing her hand up to his plush lips. He kissed her hand before placing it on his chest, over his heart. He left it there for a long moment, just looking at her, before he encouraged her to slide her hand down. He trembled as she took the initiative, sliding her hand down the smooth ridges of muscle. He gasped and his mouth formed a small ‘o’ as she loosened the cloth at his waist. The hard, thick shaft of his arousal sprung out of its confines and jutted out between their bodies.  
She couldn’t help but stare at it. She’d never actually seen one before, but she was absolutely certain that his was an impressive size. She lowered her hand to touch it, and it twitched in excitement. He moaned low in his throat. She looked up to see that his head had rolled back in pleasure, and he bucked into her grasp, encouraging her to stroke it.  
She felt a womanly sense of pride that she could make this strong warrior quite literally quiver in her grasp and, with a determined gleam in her eyes, she started stroking down and up.  
Down, up, down, up she stroked, watching the sweet agony and euphoria intermittedly play across his face. Every now and then his body would shiver in a small convulsion, as if the pleasure was too sweet to bear. His dark, heavy-lidded gaze met hers while she stroked, and a heated flare infused his dark eyes as they stared at each other; she felt a gush of hot, silken arousal leak from the tip into her hand. He cried out, “Tiri, you must stop!” all of a sudden.  
She quickly let go, wondering if she had hurt him. But he was over her in a flash again, his hands caressing her hair while he told her in her ear how good she had made him feel—too good. She smiled and met his gaze, leaning back on the counter, pleading with her eyes to satisfy the ache between her thighs.  
His gaze turned predatory and he lent over her, gripping his thick arousal and lowering himself towards her. He slid his hot, velvety shaft along one of her inner thighs before directing the tip to the sensitive little pleasure nub within her folds. Her body shivered with the white-hot pleasure. He rubbed the thick tip frenetically against her pleasure button, her silken wetness making the slide of their flesh slippery.  
"Mmmmm," she moaned, as she felt the sweet pressure building.  
Enflamed by her sensual response, he slid the tip down to her entrance.  
Her eyes suddenly opened wide. Mostly her beautiful, flushed face was the epitome of desire, but there was that little flash of fear—that fear that untried girls get right before their first time.  
He stopped what he was doing, suddenly resigned. “I can’t.”  
Tiri blinked in confusion, her body tight with arousal. “What?”  
"You are still…innocent," he said softly, gently pulling away from her. "I forgot."  
Forgot? “What?”  
"I am sorry. I did not mean to take things so far," he said, raking a hand through his hair. "I only meant to warn you to keep the necklace on at all times… However, I find myself getting distracted when I am around you," he said abashedly.  
He resituated his pants. Noticing that he had ripped her knickers he took his black robes and put them over her shoulders after he took out the concealed weapons. He looked at the bejeweled dagger for a moment and then placed the leather strap over onto her. “You keep this,” he said, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.  
Suddenly Tiri came out of her numbed trance with his kiss. She glared at him. “Get out,” she said in a cold voice.  
"Tiri," he said softly, making to brush her hair back, but she slapped his hand away.  
“Get out.”  
A play of emotions went across the dark warrior’s face. He looked like he wanted to tell her something—everything—but he only gave a sad, resigned sigh and did as she told him to.

/

The next day, Ardeth Bay showed up while their group was visiting the pyramids at Giza.  
"Oh dear Goddess, he’s bloody gorgeous," Laxmi swooned. "No wonder you gave in without a fight to a clandestine kiss in the library."  
"Laxmi, do shut up," Tiri said in a heated whisper. (Laxmi didn’t know about her little encounter with him in the bathroom last night—and she’d like to keep it that way.)  
"Oh are you afraid he’s going to hear us?" she teased. "He’s too busy whispering with your grandfather," Laxmi said offhandedly.  
On the other end of the spectrum, the elderly explorer and the immortal Medjai were having their own discreet discussion.  
"Are you observing the female species out of the corner of your eye, old friend?" Alex O’Connell said with amusement. "Why, Tiri’s got that old stick-in-the-mud expression on her cute little mug. Reminds me of her great grandfather and how he never did like dealing with the paranormal," he said with a chuckle. "She’s been staring daggers at you all afternoon."  
Ardeth Bay could not help the rueful smile that came to his lips at the comparison to his old comrade Rick O’Connell. It was true. Tiri had been giving him a look of distain oddly reminiscent to that of the late American explorer. Rick O’Connell had never looked quite happy to see Ardeth Bay because it had always meant that the rise of a great evil was on the horizon. Ardeth Bay could not blame Tiri for being angry with him. He had not handled himself well around her at all…  
But he had not been able to help himself ever since he had seen her that first time at the Cairo Museum of Antiquities. She had appeared at a moment when he was least expecting it, taking him completely by surprise.  
"So," Alex O’Connell said, getting to the matter at hand. "We have another immortal in our midst, hmmm?"  
"Yes," the Medjai chieftain said, the weight of his admission heard in that one word. "I had heard about your wife," he said carefully. "I am very sorry for your loss."  
The old explorer gave him a watery smile, brushing the condolence off. “Lin lived a good life. A very, very long good life,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m just glad that I got to spend a lifetime with her…” He cleared his throat. “But bringing this back to you… How long have you been under a spell?”  
The Medjai warrior gazed off into the distance while he answered. “Since the reign of Seti I.”  
Alex O’Connell’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. He cursed. “That’s over three-thousand years!” He was quiet for a moment, adjusting to the information. “You never let on once, you sly devil, you,” he finally said with admiration. “But it explains a lot. Like the fact that you were always such a know-it-all and a very fierce opponent in battle… So tell me,” he said, following the dark warriors gaze off into the distance. Their eyes both landed on Tiri. “How was it that you just so happened to be outside of the curator’s library at the right exact moment to intervene when Tiri and I were held at gunpoint?”  
Ardeth Bay’s jaw worked a couple of times, the ripple of muscles visible. His dark eyes narrowed, and he turned sharply, not answering the question.  
The old explorer sighed, and put a companionable hand on the dark warrior’s shoulder. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at my granddaughter. Like a man dying of thirst in the desert, and she is your tall glass of water… Or, perhaps, more aptly, it’s as if you are seeing her for the first time in three-thousand years.” He said it as a question, but there was a veiled statement in there. The powerful warrior flinched. “I will not pry anymore. I am a man, believe me, I know when it comes to matters of the heart we are not much for sharing with other men. All I am going to say is that I can think of no better man to win the heart of my granddaughter. You have my approval,” he ended with a friendly smile.  
Ardeth Bay turned around to face his old friend, searching his eyes. When he realized that there was no mockery in his words, that he was, in fact, completely sincere, he slowly smiled back and then gestured to his head and then the sky above as a sign of respect. “Thank you. Your blessing is an honor.”  
The old explorer chuckled. “Oh this isn’t even half of your battle, old friend. You’ve still got to convince the girl!”  
'Allah, help me,' Ardeth Bay thought despondently.

/

"It’s amazing what the ancient Egyptians were able to accomplish!" Raul Casablancas exclaimed with admiration as they completed their tour of the intact great pyramid of Giza.  
Everyone else agreed, impressed with the sheer labor and years that it took to create the substantial monuments. Everyone except his son that is, who was completely uninterested in history and was busy with female tourists who recognized him. He had stuffed several numbers into the pockets of his shorts and Tiri and Laxmi had heard a girl giving him directions to a popular nightclub.  
They were getting ready to retire from their excursions for the day. Ardeth Bay, whom her grandfather had introduced to the group as a very dear friend who was a desert tribesman, was invited back to their place by Raul Casablancas. The filmmaker was very happily picking apart the dark warrior’s brain so to speak, asking him about desert life and survival skills.  
Tiri was trying her best to remain haughty and aloof, but really she was rather fascinated as well.  
Laxmi turned to her in the rented van as they departed. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Let’s go with Mr. Movie Star to the nightclub tonight. We’re both of age now, and I’m dying to do something that doesn’t involve dusty dead things.” She turned her attention to Manuel Casablancas, who was busy texting. “Hey, Manuel, we’re going with you to the club tonight, k?”  
He slowly looked up. He eyed them both, assessing them. An oily smile spread across his handsome movie star face. “Fine by me. The more the merrier.” He went back to texting.  
Laxmi turned back to Tiri. “So what do ya say?”  
Tiri could feel Ardeth Bay’s gaze on the back of her head from the back seat, waiting for her response. “Sounds like fun,” she said cheerfully.  
An hour and a half later Laxmi and Tiri were both freshly scrubbed and sand-free.  
"Do you think Ardeth Bay will want to come along?" Laxmi asked while she lined the lids of Tiri’s golden eyes with black kohl.  
"No," Tiri said resolutely. Laxmi arched a brow questioningly, but didn’t push her to answer because it seemed like a touchy subject. She finished with Tiri’s makeup.  
Laxmi had turned Tiri into a mesmerizing blend of past and present. Laxmi had lined Tiri’s eyes with the continuing black line extending past the outer corners as the ancient Egyptians had done. Her hair was left in its natural state, the caramel curls and the one wild turquoise streak tumbling down in a lush cascade. The top Laxmi lent to Tiri to wear from the robe shop was little more than a decorated handkerchief. It was completely covered in hand-woven beading and dripping in little ropes of the same beading which tickled against her ribcage where the top ended. It would have reminded one of an ancient harem girls’ outfit were it not for the very modern skinny jeans and black high heels that completed the look.  
Tiri’s eyebrows went up so high when she looked at herself in the mirror that they were completely hidden behind her side-swept bangs.  
"Wow. I look…slutty."  
Laxmi stood next to her and smiled cherubically. “Yes you do!” she said proudly. “So let’s go!”  
Tiri took her ancient Egyptian necklace off and stashed it in her purse along with the dagger. She thought about tossing them unceremoniously back into her room just to spite Ardeth Bay even further, but something made her think better of it. She and Laxmi made their way downstairs. The men that were all chatting around the table went suddenly silent. Manuel, who usually looked sleepy and bored, for once was alert and wide eyed. Tiri wouldn’t even look at the dark warrior, but nevertheless she could feel his eyes on her.  
"Want to head out now?" Laxmi asked Manuel.  
"Sure," he said, eyeing Laxmi’s cleavage as he got up to head to the door, suddenly anxious to get there. "Let’s get this party started!"  
"When will you be back?" Tiri’s grandfather asked in concern.  
"When our carriage turns into a pumpkin," Tiri said dryly.  
Laxmi giggled and hollered to everyone, “Bye!” as they left.  
"Oh to be young and care free again," Raul Casablancas said with a chuckle.  
Just as the door slammed shut Brad O’Connell came down from upstairs, phone attached to his ear. “Who left?” he idly asked the room at large.  
"Your daughter," said Alex O’Connell gruffly. The old explorer imperceptibly nodded his head at Ardeth Bay, signaling him to follow the group who had just left. The incensed Medjai chieftain nodded back and silently left to take chase.


	8. Chapter 8

Namesake  
Chapter 8  
Tiri could feel the pulsing beat of the music emanating from the club all the way from the parking lot. And Manuel had parked the rented van very, very far from the entrance. Grandpa Alex had gotten the nondescript grey van for discretionary purposes, to which Raul Casablancas was thankful, but the younger Casablancas grimaced at the practical vehicle. It cramped his debonair movie star style. Nevertheless, while on this informative experience in Egypt before filming took place, the van was all they had.  
They walked up to the entrance. Well, Tiri and Laxmi walked; what Manuel was doing Tiri could only describe as a perfectly executed cool guy saunter. He wore his black designer sunglasses even though it was nighttime.  
'Club Chaos,' Tiri read from above the club entranceway, automatically translating the Arabic script into English in her head. There was a caricature image of the Egyptian God of Chaos, Seth, with swirling mists of magic sparking from his fingertips as if he had conjured up the club's name in a bout of mischief. The dark God's painted eyes were brooding and sinister.  
"Oh Manuel Casablancas! You actually came!"  
Tiri recognized the two girls from the pyramids at Giza. Earlier they had been dressed in khakis and tank tops as if they were tourists, but now they were dressed in what looked to be very authentic (and revealing) bellydancer girl outfits. They wore veils that semi-hid their exotic beauty. ‘Ok,’ Tiri thought. ‘Not tourists. Locals.’  
One of the girls was staring at her, as if she was trying to put a name to a face. After a moment her eyes suddenly widened in recognition. “Hey, you’re Evelyn Nefertiri O’Connell! The girl Manuel is doing that mummy movie with!”  
Tiri blanched. “What? How—um, how did you know that?”  
The girl smiled prettily behind her translucent veil and pulled out a dark, gleaming little cellphone from within her top. With a few touches of the screen suddenly she had pulled up a video from YouTube. Tiri watched as the events of her party unfolded before her eyes on the tiny screen, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as full realization hit her. The video already had 547,933 hits, and a full week hadn’t even passed yet since her party. The uploader of the video had the usnername ‘theoconnellbros’.  
Her father and uncle had been the ones to broadcast the video feed.  
"You’re part Egyptian, aren’t you?" the other girl asked Tiri. Tiri nodded in a daze, her thoughts frozen. "That’s so cool! There’s not too many Egyptian actresses in Hollywood so it’s nice to have one to represent us!" she said with an excited giggle. "Can’t wait until the movie comes out!"  
"Is it really going to be based on your family’s adventures here in Egypt?" the first girl asked.  
Manuel swooped in, bored with the conversation. He took a girl under each arm. They giggled and cooed in delight. “Ladies! All will be revealed when the movie comes out. Can’t leak too many secrets. But I will see what I can do about getting you both tickets to the premier. What were your names again?”  
The girls screeched in delight and babbled to him at the same time. He patiently guided them towards the club, the bouncer diligently letting him pass without a fuss. Manuel looked over his shoulder at Tiri and Laxmi, who were still dumbstruck by the odd turn of events. “Are you coming?” he asked with a devastatingly charming smirk on his face. Tiri realized that this was the actor while truly in his element.  
Laxmi snapped to first. She laughed and pulled Tiri’s arm. “Come on Miss Movie Star! You may not be ready for your debut but it’s ready for you!”  
Tiri stumbled into the club as Laxmi pulled her along. The beat was loud with the pounding rhythm of dance music. Tiri recognized the song to be a recent American hit translated into Arabic. The place was teeming with gyrating bodies. The scent of sweat and perfume mingled in the sultry environment.  
Her fate seemed cemented in now that people recognized her. Whether she liked it or not she was going to do this movie.  
'If you can't beat them, join them,' she thought with a heavy sigh, and escaped into the hypnotic thrall of the exotic music.  
Laxmi whirled her out onto the dance floor, the shimmering rose-pink beads of Tiri’s top jingling against her flesh as she melted into the rhythm.  
Hours past it seemed. Sweat was gliding in rivulets down her rocking frame. She slid her back down against her current dance partner. The body was hard and the hands that were gliding along her sides were large and masculine, indicating to her that he was male. She gyrated even harder against the body, not caring in this moment. She was trying her hardest to stay free from her thoughts.  
After a time, she felt a prickle on her skin, as if someone was watching her. She opened her heavy lidded eyes and met the dark, fiery depths of Ardeth Bay’s gaze. The dark warrior was watching her from across the room in an inky black corner of the club. The planes of his bronze face were tightened in fury. After getting over the shock of seeing the tattooed warrior in the club, Tiri felt her temper rise at the sight of him and his black mood. He had been the one to reject her while in the bathroom the night before. What right did he have to be mad at her?  
Even as her dark thoughts crossed her mind, the feel of male hands on her suddenly morphed to the feeling of Ardeth Bay’s hands on her from yesterday. Her mind’s eye brought her back to that moment and that look that had been in the dark warrior’s eyes as he had touched her. His eyes had been furious then too, but in a different way. The dark pools of his eyes had been an ocean of complexities, filled with longing and desire and something so very soft. The softness had been Tiri’s downfall. She had been swept up in it and had given in to him without a fight.  
She had been blinded. Overwhelmed. But his rejection had sobered her and as her logic had settled back in she had internally berated herself for being so naïve. She realized that the looks he gave her were not something that could be developed instantaneously upon first meeting someone. No, the looks that he gave her were ancient. A life lived a long time ago. Upon further thought she was sure he had to have been secretly in love with her great grandma Evelyn O’Connell.  
He had only kissed Tiri because she looked like his unrequited love.  
She gave him an icy glare from across the room and slid her own hand along the supple curve of her naked throat. She was flaunting the fact that she wasn’t wearing the necklace. A dark satisfaction settled upon her when she saw his jaw clench and his fists ball up in rage.  
Suddenly a cup was pushed into her grasp, and the two girls and Manuel were before her. “We know a place much better than this,” the girl who had first recognized Tiri said in a playfully conspiratorial voice. She clinked her cup against Tiri’s and drank deeply, encouraging Tiri to do the same. “Come with us,” the girl said.  
Tiri met Ardeth Bay’s furious stare as she gulped the burning liquid down. When she finished she turned her back on the Medjai warrior and snagged Laxmi’s arm. “All right. Let’s go.”  
They headed out of the club and piled into the van, giggling at their uncoordinated limbs. More drinks were passed around, and in Tiri’s blurred state she saw that one of the local girls was driving. It made sense to her fuzzy mind. The girl knew the way to where they were going and she also looked surprisingly alert. ‘The girl can hold her alcohol,’ Tiri thought in admiration right before her vision completely dimmed.  
She woke up still in a fog. Her eyes felt so heavy that she didn’t have the energy to lift them yet. Her mouth tasted funny and the acceleration of the vehicle was jostling her body. When she got the effort to open her eyes she was going to have to ask if they could call the partying off and just head home because her head weighed a ton right now and all she wanted to do was sleep it off. She finally opened her eyes to do just that.  
She wasn’t in the van. She was in some kind of large, armored, off-roading vehicle. The local girls weren’t with them either. They had been replaced by four large, unsavory looking men. She bolted upright-which is when she realized that her hands were tied behind her back and her ankles were tied together. Laxmi and Manuel lay sleeping in the seats behind her, also tied up.  
She screamed. A heavy hand collided with her cheek.  
"There will be none of that now," one of the men said in Arabic. It was the one that had slapped her. “No one will hear you anyway. We are deep in a part of the desert where not many journey to. Superstition keeps most away. It is said that the blood flows in these sands. A cursed place,” he said with a sardonic chuckle.  
Tiri felt fear grip her insides. She licked her parched lips. “What do you want with us?” she asked hoarsely in Arabic. Her mouth felt as if it were filled with cotton. She needed water badly.  
The one closest to her, the one that had slapped her, reached out his rough hand and grazed her stinging cheek. “Ah, so you speak Arabic, do you? You are quite a catch. Banan and Fareeha did well.”  
Tiri winced as she felt a renewed blossom of pain where he pressed against her cheek. She vaguely recognized the names as those of the local girls that they had been hanging out with at Club Chaos.  
It had been a trap. The local girls must have drugged them and lured them to these men…  
“Originally Banan and Fareeha were to seduce your famous friend here and bring him to us, but on a hunch they decided to bring you to us as well Evelyn Nefertiri O’Connell. What a good hunch it was too. We looked up your family. You’re worth at least four times as much as him,” said the man in the front passenger seat.  
"What a nice ransom you’ll bring in!" the driver boomed out gleefully as he recklessly drove over sand dunes.  
The other men joined in with his merriment and laughed along with him. Tiri couldn’t make out their features because they wore turbans with hanging black veils over their faces. All she could see were their dark, malevolent eyes.  
'We've been kidnapped,' she thought in dread. She wildly looked around the confined space, searching for a way to free them from this mess, but no options were too forthcoming. It was at this time that she realized that her purse was gone. 'They have the necklace and the dagger,' she thought helplessly.  
As if reading her thoughts the man that had slapped her pulled her purse out, dangling it by a finger in front of her face. “Looking for this? How about we see what a rich little thing like you carries around with her?”  
“No!” Tiri cried out, but it was already too late. With a careless ease the contents of her purse were suddenly emptied out next to her.  
The golden dagger and Nefertiri’s usekh collar gleamed in the moonlight.  
The men gasped. The man that had slapped her laughed in delight and greedily swooped down to retrieve the treasures. He put them in his lap and then held up the dagger first. He looked it over before sliding the cool metal against her throat. “Why, it seems we have all ready been rewarded for our efforts of kidnapping you!”  
The men wooped excitedly. The one who had slapped her turned his attention to the necklace. He eyed it greedily and held it up delicately in his free hand, showing it to the other men. He pressed the blade more firmly against the delicate skin of her neck. “Tell me its origins!”  
Tiri felt her heart beat race. With a reckless turn her blood could spill. “I don’t know,” she croaked out, lying. “I think my grandfather got it from a gift shop in Cairo.” 'Don't take my great grandmother's necklace,' she thought desperately.  
The man scoffed and the pressure of the blade was so very close to slicing through her yielding flesh. “Lies! Tell me its origins!”  
All of the sudden Tiri felt something powerful overwhelm her being. The man holding the golden blade gaped at her as her irises suddenly burst into a shimmering splender. Her eyes were a radiant gold that could rival the sun.  
"It belongs to Nefertiri; daughter of Isis and reincarnation of the Goddess in human form," a clear, ringing voice spoke from Tiri. The words which came out of her mouth were spoken in ancient Egyptian.  
The kidnapper cried out in shock. He jerked away from her, drawing blood in his haste. Tiri felt a sting as a ribbon of blood slid down her neck.  
Suddenly the man cried out again, but this time in agony. Tiri could hear the familiar sizzle of human flesh and saw that the necklace that he clutched in his hand had just been activated to burn him in the same way that it had burned Dr. Terence Bey III.  
Before she had time to process the powerful energy she channeled, she felt her heart racing even faster if possible. The desert floor was violently shaking.  
“A curse!” the man that had slapped her and cut her screamed out, suddenly a believer.  
The earth trembled and a powerful sandstorm picked up, whirling around them. Tiri closed her eyes as the wind and sand shattered the glass windows of the car. She felt the forceful wind pulling her and she was rushed through an opening in the vehicle on a forceful gust of sand and air. With her eyes still tightly closed against the harsh grains of sand, she heard bloodcurdling screams and then the fatalistic crunch of metal as the pressure of thousands of tons of sand crushed it down into the earth.  
The wind died down, and the desert settled into tranquility again.  
"Laxmi!" Tiri screamed out in grief, brushing the sand from her eyes. In her hysteria she didn’t even take notice that she had somehow become free of her binds. She stumbled around, searching the sands. "Laxmi! Manuel!"  
A feminine groan sounded nearby, and Tiri felt her heart unclench in relief. She hastily ripped off her now useless black high heels, which had just been making her sink into the sand. “Laxmi!”  
"Why the bloody hell am I in the middle of the desert? Oh Goddess I must have been more tossed than I thought!"  
Tiri laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes. She tackled her best friend in a hug. “Oh Gods I thought you’d died!”  
"Why are we in the middle of the desert?" Laxmi again asked bemusedly, hugging her back. "And why would I be dead?"  
"We were kidnapped," Tiri said, brushing tears and sand from her face. She winced as she touched her bruised cheek. "We were bound with ropes," she said in amazement, now realizing that they were both magically freed from their binds. "Those girls that Manuel had met, they weren’t tourists, they were locals that lure tourists to kidnappers who hold them for ransom."  
"WHAT?"  
Tiri and Laxmi turned to the direction of the voice. A bedraggled Manuel stumbled over to them. His dark hair was sandy and his dark sunglasses were missing. “We were kidnapped?”  
"Yeah," Tiri giggled in disbelief, amazed by the turn of events.  
"Well, what happened to our kidnappers? Did they just decide to leave us here to rot?" Manuel asked in a put-off voice, shaking sand from his hair.  
Tiri whirled around, checking to see if any of the men had survived since Tiri, Laxmi and Manuel miraculously had. The desert was eerily quiet. Tiri had a feeling that whatever the hell had just happened, it had been to her and her companions benefit. “They’re gone. There was a freak sandstorm and it swallowed the car whole. We were the only ones shook loose. It doesn’t seem possible, but it happened.”  
"Oh well that’s just great!" Manuel said in a voice strangled with anger. "We survive a kidnapping only to rot in the desert! I HATE Egypt! If I live through this I’m never setting foot on this craphole of a country EVER again!"  
Laxmi ignored Manuel and focused on Tiri. “You’re bleeding.”  
Tiri zoned out on Manuel’s tirade and finally took notice of the warmth seeping from her neck. It didn’t feel serious; just a superficial wound. It just smarted like hell from the sand and grime in it. If anything she was grateful for the cut. It seemed to be what had set off the chain of reactions that saved them. The necklace had protected her even though it hadn’t been on…  
But that hadn’t been the only thing protecting her, had it? She thought back to the ancient, foreign words that had rolled off her tongue. She had channeled something powerful. It made her think back to her dream of the Goddess Isis giving her a cup of water in the desert. Somehow it seemed connected to what was happening now.  
She focused back on Laxmi. “I’m all right. It’s just a scratch.”  
Tiri looked out to the dark horizon, taking notice that the desert night was freezing without the power of the sun. Her barely-there top seemed like a huge mistake at this point. She was sure Laxmi felt the same way, because she was as equally underdressed. She tuned back into Manuel’s tirade, suddenly understanding what all the fuss was about now that the euphoria of surviving through that scary ordeal was over.  
"We have to find shelter," she said calmly, instinct taking over. Manuel finally shut up. "As cold as it is now, it’s nothing compared to what’s going to happen to us when the sun comes up. We’re not dressed for the desert sun." She thought back to the survival skills Ardeth Bay had been discussing with Raul Casablancas. Suddenly she regretted being so cold to him. She sincerely hoped that he had continued to follow them. Though she highly doubted it after the way she had been such an icy bitch towards him. "It’s not like sunny California," she said, swallowing her regret and putting it into perspective for Manuel. "If we don’t find shelter and water before the desert gets too hot we’ll die in a matter of hours."  
Manuel started cursing again.  
"Oh keep your shirt on," Laxmi said in an annoyed voice to Manuel. "Your whining isn’t going to do us any good. You heard Tiri. So let’s get a move on."  
Laxmi followed suit as Tiri and took off her high heels, leaving them to their sandy demise. Tiri smiled and the best friends linked hands.  
"So which way do we go?" Laxmi asked Tiri.  
Tiri’s smile was wiped off her face at the question. She had no idea. She searched the dark desert horizon.  
A glint caught her eye.  
"Is that…? No, it couldn’t be," Tiri said in disbelief as she dragged Laxmi along and jogged over to what had caught her eye.  
It WAS the necklace and the dagger!  
She dove down and quickly put the necklace on. Whatever it was that had just happened-it made her a believer.  
"That’s some necklace," Laxmi said in an impressed voice.  
"Yeah, it really is," Tiri said in amusement, the private joke not lost on Laxmi since Tiri had told her what it had done to Dr. Bey III.  
Tiri focused her attention on the dagger. It was lying serenely in the sand, its golden blade sharp and true. She stared off into the direction that the golden blade pointed towards… “We’re going this way,” she said on a leap of faith, pointing in the same direction as the dagger. She scooped it up and put it in the waist band of her jeans.  
Her two companions wordlessly followed her direction, and they started their trek from the depths of the Sahara desert.  
Hours passed. Dawn was approaching. The edge of the inky black sky was turning to blood red and burnt orange and a salmon pink. Tiri and her companions eyes were all heavy with lack of sleep. They had all ready been thirsty from the very beginning because of whatever the local girls had drugged them with; now they were positively famished with thirst. As Tiri watched the sky change, she was starting to doubt her decision on direction. There was a vast amount of sand and nothingness. No shelter; and with the approaching sun Tiri and Laxmi’s scantily clad bodies would burn. The realization of what was to become of them was harsh.  
Her dragging feet suddenly tripped over something hard under the thick layer of sand. She braced herself as she fell, landing into the forgiving sand. Hastily, she wiped the sand away from the hard object, curious to see what lay beneath. It was stone. Perfectly carved stone with ancient Egyptian heiroglyphics on it! She dusted more sand away, finding that it was much larger than she had originally thought it to be. Her hand brushed something that pushed inwards and suddenly the stone was awakening from its dormant phase and was slowly rising. Tiri, Laxmi and Manuel quickly jumped off of it before it rose too high.  
"What’s happening?" Manuel asked in a panic.  
The sun broke over the horizon as the enormous stone edifice emerged before them.  
The ancient city rose higher and higher, its daunting shadow blanketing them as they backed away.  
Tiri had accidentally risen Hamunaptra, City of the Dead.


	9. Chapter 9

Namesake  
Chapter 9  
Previously…  
Her dragging feet suddenly tripped over something hard under the thick layer of sand. She braced herself as she fell, landing into the forgiving sand. Hastily, she wiped the sand away from the hard object, curious to see what lay beneath. It was stone. Perfectly carved stone with ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics on it! She dusted more sand away, finding that it was much larger than she had originally thought it to be. Her hand brushed something that pushed inwards and suddenly the stone was awakening from its dormant phase and was slowly rising. Tiri, Laxmi and Manuel quickly jumped off of it before it rose too high.  
"What’s happening?" Manuel asked in a panic.  
The sun broke over the horizon as the enormous stone edifice emerged before them.  
The ancient city rose higher and higher, its daunting shadow blanketing them as they backed away.  
Tiri had accidentally risen Hamunaptra, City of the Dead.  
"I think what’s happening here is Tiri may have accidentally pressed an ancient button of doom," Laxmi answered slowly in awe.  
Tiri cursed under her breath.  
"Is this…?" Laxmi said, losing her train of thought as the sound of stone sliding against stone ended in a solid ‘click’ noise, signaling that the city had fully risen.  
"Hamunaptra," Tiri breathed out.  
The City of the Dead was as impressive as its descriptions in the stories that Grandpa Alex had told to Tiri. It was like a splendid mirage which had unfurled in the middle of the desert to trick hallucinating travelers… Only it was no trick. It was definitely there.  
"Hamu-what? You mean that place in your family’s make-believe stories?" Manuel asked shakily, looking a bit green.  
Tiri glanced at the movie star. Her insides twisted horribly. This was real and she had led a missing famous person right to it. This could not bode well for the Medjai’s secret-keeping of this place. ‘Oh bother,’ she thought, her inner voice sounding a lot like the bumbling librarian her Great Grandma Evelyn had once been.  
"We should leave," Tiri said quickly.  
She turned her back to the foreboding city. An endless expanse of sand lay before her. She noticed that the unforgiving sun had quickly burnt off the chill to the air. A haze of heat was all ready starting to ripple across the desert. Tiri was suddenly made all too aware of how dry her throat was, and how so very exhausted she was from traveling by foot most of the night. She bravely took a step forward out of the shadow cast by the city. It only took her a few steps to realize that her companions were not following along.  
She turned back to find Laxmi and Manuel looking undecidedly between the endless expanse before them and the miraculous city.  
Tiri did not like the look of curiosity lurking on Laxmi’s face. “Laxmi…”  
"Oh, come on!" her best friend burst out in a needling tone. "I mean, you said so yourself, we need shelter-and this just came our way! You know there isn’t going to be anything else for us. We went in the wrong direction! We’ll be fine as long as we don’t touch anything."  
Tiri sighed and looked back out to the barren desert, squinting into the distance. Laxmi was right. They were so very far from Cairo. “All right,” she said in defeat. A small blossom of hope formed as she remembered something. “I saw Ardeth Bay at the club. I think Grandpa Alex might have sent him to keep an eye out for us. There’s a chance that he might be looking for us right now. He knows the desert. If we stay in one spot he’ll have a better chance of finding us.”  
"Ardeth Bay? You mean that guy with the tats on his face? What if he doesn’t find us?" Manuel asked.  
Tiri bit her lip pensively. “We should get some rest. If he doesn’t find us by night fall we’ll have to back track until we find the nearest village and hope that they’re welcoming.” She sincerely hoped that it wouldn’t come to that.  
"Sounds like a plan to me," Laxmi said with a yawn. "I’m so tired I could sleep on a blasting amp at a rock concert right now."  
Tiri gave an uneasy laugh as she turned back to Hamunaptra. Laxmi and Manuel walked up to the large entranceway. As soon as they were about a yard away the heavy stone door slid open automatically by some magical force. Tiri stood glued to her spot for a moment.  
'The last time the Creature had been defeated had been at Ahm Shere. His mummified body isn't even here,' she internally reassured herself. 'But other evils must lurk here. Otherwise the Medjai wouldn't still be guarding this place.' Her reassurance wasn't very reassuring.  
Laxmi popped back out from the entranceway. Her eyes were alight with relief. “Come on in Tiri! There’s nothing spooky. Just a nice soft floor of sand and a barrier to keep the pesky sun off us while we sleep.”  
Tiri did have to admit that at this moment the idea of a comfortable place to rest was very tantalizing. With a sigh full of resolve she stepped inside.  
Tiri found the inside of the entrance chamber to look pretty harmless. She let out the breath she had been holding. Just a boring beige chamber filled with boring beige sand. There wasn’t even any hieroglyphics in the interior of this room because age had disintegrated them. She eyed the passageway that led further into the City of the Dead. That, however, she didn’t trust. “We are to rest as close to the entranceway as possible,” she said warningly, eyeing her companions. Wordlessly they agreed and they all settled down to rest just within the entranceway to Hamunaptra.  
Surprisingly, they all found sleep quiet easily - even Tiri.

/

Tiri dreamt…  
She was navigating through a long passageway. Burning wall sconces lit the way to the dark, winding space. She came to a dead end, but she didn’t panic. She had a key. She took the octagonal shaped box out of her outer robes, unlatching it so that it sprung into a star shape. She placed it in the stone wall and turned it in the proper combination. The heavy door unlatched and swung open, revealing an expansive room fit for the princess of Egypt.  
She made sure to close the door all of the way, so no hint of the secret passageway could be found out. On this side of the doorway it looked to be shelving filled with her papyrus scrolls for study and fine pottery created by the best artisan’s Thebes had to offer. With a satisfied feeling that everything was in order, she pulled off her robes and let them fall to the marble floor before pulling back the gauzy wall hangings that cloaked her elegant platform bed. She walked up the steps leading to her bed and then sunk into the plush Egyptian linens and imported silks. Her eyes closed in comfort…  
Tiri woke up to find that she must have sleep-walked, because she was standing and she was no longer in the entrance chamber with Laxmi and Manuel. She was alone and standing before a runic passageway.  
'Not good,' was her first thought.  
An eerie wave rushed over her, and she twisted about as she could swear she felt the whisper of ancient voices brushing against her ears like a lover’s caress. The sound became more decipherable. Ancient chanting and heartfelt cries to the Gods and Goddesses pressed in on her. Glowing golden-orange wall sconces flickered in and out of her perception, lining the passageway that intermittently turned from ruins to perfectly preserved paint and gold encrusted walls. The shadowplay of the imaginary wall sconces made the symbols and reliefs of ancient Egyptians look like they were moving. Her breathing accelerated in panic and her gaze skittered around. The space felt like it was closing in around her and she didn’t know her way out of this passageway!  
"There you are," a relieved voice called out.  
The voice was rich and heavily lilted with an Arabic accent. Tiri felt a wave of comfort crash over her. She sharply turned and ran straight into Ardeth Bay. “Uumph!” Her sudden bout of claustrophobia had put her depth-perception off.  
The agile warrior steadied her. He noticed the scared look on her face and the fact that she was shaking. “Are you all right? What happened?” he asked in concern, an alertness to his voice giving his tone an edge. He pressed her closer to him in a protective stance and checked the periphery of the area, in full warrior-mode.  
Her breathing slowed as she came down from her alarm. She was so close to him that she had to tilt her head way up to meet his gaze. For the first time she noticed just how much taller he was than her, more than half a head taller than her - and she was tall for a girl. “I’m fine,” she said softly. “I just thought I heard something,” she added awkwardly. She abashedly looked down at a point on his chest so she didn’t have to meet his gaze.  
He gently tilted her chin up with a darkly tanned finger, studying her features carefully. Tiri could feel his brown eyes sweeping over the bruise on her cheek and the crimson crusted cut on her neck. Suddenly his tone was fierce. “You could have been killed last night. From the looks of all this,” he gestured toward her beat up face and the City of the Dead passageway they currently stood in, “you came very close. I do not want you to ever jeopardize your safety to satisfy a personal vendetta against me ever again. Do I make myself clear?”  
Tiri pushed away from him, feeling a rush of heat come to her face. “Oh well don’t you think highly of yourself? What makes you think that any of my actions last night had anything to do with you?”  
His gaze swept over her form in a knowing way before his dark eyes settled back to meeting her hazel gaze. Tiri bit the inside of her cheek and dropped her eyes from his piercing brown gaze when she remembered the intricate barely-there top she currently wore. Her midriff was bare and her small breasts were pressed up high and on display.  
"Do you normally dress in this fashion or did you do it to make me jealous?"  
"I," she started in a wavering voice. Did she do it to make him jealous? "I don’t even know you," she settled on saying.  
Suddenly there was a promise in his eyes. You will, it said. “I am taking you to my tribe to clean up that wound before it becomes infected,” he settled on saying matter-of-factly.  
"What?" she said, thrown through a loop. She let out a frustrated little huff. "You’re so arrogant! Why don’t you just ask me instead of tell me what to do you -"  
"Tiri?"  
Tiri cut off her fuming tirade as she heard foot steps approaching. Her grandfather, father, uncle, Laxmi and the Casablancas men immerged. Her family immediately embraced her. “What’s going on Tiri?” Grandpa Alex asked within the litany of ‘Thank God you’re ok’ being repeatedly said by her dad and uncle.  
Ardeth Bay answered for her. “We will go to my village before you make your way back to Cairo. She has a cut on her neck that needs tending to.”  
"Yes, thank you Ardeth," Grandpa Alex said while inspecting Tiri’s neck. He clasped his granddaughter in an embrace. "Thank the Gods you’re all right! You had your old grandfather worried sick."  
Tiri instantly felt her ire melt. “I’m sorry,” she said, remembering her last words to him before she had left for the club had been haughty and aloof. She’d really acted childishly.  
And, yes, that meant she had acted childishly towards Ardeth Bay as well. She still was acting childishly towards him, but she couldn’t seem to help that. His controlling attitude raised her hackles because, after all, she was a person with very little control over the happenings of her own life, and at least fighting him gave her some semblance of control.  
That is, when she wasn’t throwing said little semblance of control straight out the window and brainlessly kissing him.  
"Oh all that matters is that you’re all right," her grandpa said with a gentle smile. He turned to take in their surroundings. His eyes were filled with wonder and awe. Tiri realized her grandfather was seeing for the first time the ancient city where his parent’s had fallen in love. "Tiri, you really are a chip off the old block, aren’t you?" he said in amazement. "You managed to raise a city that was thought to have been permanently lost to the sands."  
Tiri winced and took in the sight of her ancient (and previously thought mythical) surroundings. Her gaze fell on the Casablancas men. Manuel looked more than ready to leave this dusty place, but there was a gleam in Raul Casablancas’ eyes as he drank in his surroundings. Grandpa Alex followed her gaze and gave a heavy sigh. He turned to Ardeth Bay. “I believe you know what to do.”  
Tiri gasped as she heard the sudden rush of metal zinging through the air. Ardeth Bay had his scimitar pointed threateningly in the filmmaker’s direction. “You will tell no one of what you have seen here today. As far as you are concerned this place is only a myth. Do you understand?” the dark warrior said in a voice filled with deadly intent.  
The filmmaker’s eyes widened in fear and he adamantly nodded his head to indicate that he understood perfectly well. “Only a myth. Not real. Got it,” he croaked out.  
The dark warrior pointed the sharp blade at Manuel next. “It’s not real! Don’t hurt me!” the movie star squeaked out.  
"Good," Ardeth Bay said in finality.  
'Bully,' Tiri thought rather prejudicely, since it was her grandfather that had signaled him to do it.  
He re-sheathed his scimitar and led the way out of the passageway. Everyone awkwardly cleared their throats and decided it was best to follow along.  
Outside of the entrance to the city was a sleek personal-sized airplane which stood gleaming in the sunlight. Tiri raised her eyebrows in wonder. “Where’d this come from?” she asked her grandfather.  
"This is compliments of Dr. Terence Bey III," her grandpa said with a grin. "It’s his way of saying sorry for pointing a gun at you and also a way for him to suck up to his Medjai chieftain."  
Tiri recalled the rather amusing tale of her great uncle Jonathon and Ardeth Bay being strapped to the wings of an ancient biplane that belonged to the elderly fighter pilot, Winston Havelhock. As the tale goes, Ardeth Bay had enjoyed the precarious flight immensely. ‘All right then,’ Tiri thought and boarded the aircraft. She watched said Medjai chieftain get into the pilot’s seat. The usually stoic dark warrior had a certain gleam in his eyes. He rather looked like a kid in a candy shop… “Does he have a pilot’s license?” she asked warily.  
Her grandfather became pensive. “Hmmm well he did all right getting us here.” He seemed to think it over. “Just make sure to buckle your seatbelt.”  
Tiri woodenly took a seat between her grandfather and Laxmi, double and then triple checking to make sure that her seatbelt was properly latched. She looked at Hamunaptra through the round airplane window. She shivered as she remembered the thick feel of magic in the air while being in that passageway she had woken up in. “Will it go back down?” she asked her grandfather.  
Grandpa Alex stared at the City of the Dead through her window too as he answered. “Ardeth Bay and the Medjai will handle it.”  
He had so much faith in his words, so much faith in Ardeth Bay, that there was nothing for her to do but have faith as well.  
She came to find out that her fears about Ardeh Bay’s level of flying skill went unfounded. He was an amazing pilot. The flight was quick and smooth. They ascended into the air, the City of the Dead becoming just a dark speck, like a grain of sand, before Tiri could see it no more. Tiri had a feeling that when Ardeth Bay set his mind to something, perfect mastery was the only option he allowed himself. They gently touched down near a breathtaking desert mountain range.  
The craggy mountain peaks were a washed-out, light earthen color similar to the warm colored sands surrounding them. Though beautiful, she hadn’t the foggiest why they would land in such a barren place.  
Suddenly three black-clad figures appeared from the base of the tallest mountain, as if out of thin air.  
"Welcome to my village," Ardeth Bay said with a wry grin on his face, as he took in the agape expressions on the travelers’ faces.  
Now it was her grandfather’s turn to look like a kid in a candy shop. “Mountain dwellers! I’ve heard of concealed villages such as this but never in all my days have I seen one! What are we waiting for, Ardeth! I want the grand tour!”  
Tiri shook her head as they all stepped out of the plane, chuckling at how adorable and childlike her grandfather could get. Her eyes met Ardeth’s. He too had been chuckling at her grandfather’s antics. His dark brown eyes were dancing with merriment. When he was enjoying himself his face really transformed. Tiri felt her stomach do a flip-flop and she quickly broke eye contact.  
"I will show you around," the dark warrior said to Grandpa Alex. "But first, Tiri needs to have her wound cleaned, and I am sure her and her friends will want to freshen up."  
As he said the words, the black-clad figures approached them. They lowered their hooded cloaks. They were females wearing black veils embellished with silver metalwork and beading. Tiri noticed something very peculiar about them…  
They all had an indigo streak of blue woven into their shiny black hair.  
Laxmi made a show of looking from the black-clad women to Tiri. She gave Tiri a sly look. “Looks like you’ll be right at home here.”  
“Jahira, Aaliyah, Karawan,” Ardeth Bay said in greeting. He spoke to them in Arabic. "We have visitors this evening.” He nodded towards Tiri and Laxmi and the tribe women instantly surrounded them, giggling and gently guiding the two girls to follow them. Tiri shuffled forward but looked over her shoulder at her grandfather questioningly. He smiled encouragingly for her to go with them. She chanced a glance at her father and uncle. But surprise, surprise they were too busy staring admiringly at the beautiful veiled women. Tiri rolled her eyes and let the women lead her towards the mountain.


	10. Chapter 10

Namesake  
Chapter 10  
The black clad women veered to the left, leading Tiri and Laxmi along a curved sand path carved into the mountain by man-made methods. Almost as soon as they were on the path they were swallowed up by natural earthen coverage; large boulders, hills and shrubs blocked their view of the group of men they had just left behind. Tiri peered around curiously as they walked along the nature path between the two mountains, every once in a while catching a glimpse of a tiny dark figure curiously peering back down at her from within large stone archways seamlessly blending into the mountain landscape. The pathway inclined; large slabs of stone laid down as steps were now necessary to make the steep climb. At the top of the climb was a severe cut into the earth. A perfectly level sandstone courtyard lay sprawling before them. The enormous space was nestled within the surrounding mountains, giving it the benefit of shade during the times of day when the sun wasn’t at its height. This was one of those times as the sun was slowly sinking behind the mountains.  
The courtyard buzzed with hundreds of bodies. Taking up most of the space was a large formation of black clad warriors who were doing some sort of Medjai exercise drills with their scimitars. Their superiors walked along the paths of men, crying out indistinct instructions before the warriors sharply melted into a new warring pose. On the outskirts surrounding these men were women, children, and the elderly either idly talking amongst their groups of friends, frolicking (in the children’s cases), or watching the drills that the warriors did with a keen eye. When Tiri and Laxmi stepped into the courtyard with the small group of women leading them the people surrounding them, and even warriors close enough to them, stopped what they were doing and stared at the newcomers.  
Tiri felt like she was under the microscope. ‘Oh Gods look at all of them!’ she thought with a lurch to her stomach. Somehow this seemed to make the supernatural secrets even more believable than Hamunaptra itself! All these people were dedicating their lives to guarding the secrets of Egypt…  
A young warrior suddenly wolf whistled. Almost immediately his superior disarmed the distracted warrior and elbowed him in the gut with the hilt of his scimitar, leaving him gasping for air. The courtyard was filled with laughter.  
Tiri was absolutely mortified at this point. She crossed her arms over her chest, wishing with all her might for a shirt of a normal length. Another warrior nearby, taking the opportune moment of everyone’s laughter, nodded in Tiri’s direction and asked the girls leading them along, “Whose Medjai bride is that?”  
The veiled girls leading Tiri and Laxmi along tittered amongst themselves and picked up the pace.  
The veiled girls escorted them into a room built into the base of a mountain clear across the other side of the courtyard from which they came. They pushed through thick black linen cloth to enter the room. It was a vast communal bath where young and old Medjai women alike primped and washed and gossiped amongst themselves. The women in this space were in various states of undress, so Laxmi and Tiri didn’t stick out as much with their bare midriffs showing. Still, they gained brief curious stares as they were led along a path to a soothing room swathed in gleaming dark blue tile and natural stone cut bathing areas. It was quiet obvious that everyone knew everyone in this large, secret village, and visitors came few and far in between and were therefore a hot commodity.  
Laxmi, who had been uncharacteristically quite while taking in her surroundings, finally turned to Tiri. She was practically buzzing with excitement. She gave an indulgent sigh. “Did you see all of those hot young warriors? I think I’ve died and gone to paradise!”  
Tiri watched the veiled girls go over to a tiled counter filled with vials and pots of aromatic substances. They started to mix ingredients together. Tiri turned back to Laxmi and whispered, “Yeah, well, in our get-ups those warriors probably think that we’re ‘entertainment!’”  
Laxmi gasped - but there was an absurd little smile on her face. Trust Laxmi to be amused by the thought that someone had mistaken her for a prostitute. “What’d that warrior say?”  
Tiri clammed up and suddenly was unable to meet Laxmi’s gaze.  
Laxmi peered at her. Her eyes were slitted. “What’d he say?” She sighed in exasperation when Tiri wasn’t too forthcoming. “Damn, I should’ve paid attention to mum’s boring Arabic lessons. All I can say is-” She proceeded to spurt stereotypical and lewd Arabic phrases.  
The veiled girls gasped at Laxmi’s crudeness.  
“Laxmi!” Tiri hissed out in rebuke.  
Tiri apologized to the girls, but one stepped forward with a little laugh. “Do not apologize,” she spoke in English with a heavy Arabic lilt.  
'Oh,' Tiri thought with some surprise.  
The girl continued, “Your friend is funny. It is nice to have western visitors. You will find that, outside of the city, Egypt is a very conservative place. The Medjai has always been more lenient with how our women are brought up. We only veil ourselves in the harshest heat of the day and when greeting visitors… Just in case there is someone easily offended lurking about,” she finished with a wink, pulling off her robes to show that she was in a rather pretty black and silver tunic dress reminiscent of the material that Ardeth Bay wore that night in the library. The dress bared most of her shoulders and her legs from the knee downwards. The other two girls took it as their cue to eagerly take off their stifling robes as well. Tiri noticed the fact that these young women were all excellently toned. She had a feeling they did some Medjai training of their own.  
The same girl spoke again. “I am Jahira, and these are my cousins Aaliyah,” she said, pointing to the shorter of the two remaining girls, “and Karawan.” The girls lightly bowed their greetings.  
"I’m Laxmi," Tiri’s best friend said with a grin and a moxie waggle of her fingers in a wave. The Medjai girls laughed at her silliness.  
"Tiri," she introduced herself. "It’s nice to meet you all," she said with a gracious smile.  
"We would never ever force you into being someone’s bride!” Aaliyah, the short one, squeaked out in a rush all of the sudden.  
Laxmi raised a brow at that very strange outburst while Tiri, who knew what the warrior had asked, blushed. Jahira took it as her cue to explain, “Tiri has a streak of blue in her hair. It is our custom in our culture that when a girl becomes a women she gets blue dyed into her hair. It is considered a mark of beauty to the Medjai. Just as our men get the sacred marks on their face, arms and hands when they become a man. Aqil was misinformed,” she said with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. “He asked us who Tiri was betrothed to because he saw the blue in her hair. Most Medjai girls have blue in their hair when they wed but it is not truly a sign that they are betrothed, just that they have blossomed into a woman.”  
"Oh," Tiri said in dawning understanding, toying with the streak in her hair. "I’ve never heard of such a custom in all the stories my grandfather’s told me. How long has that tradition been around?"  
Jahira started her tale with a smile as the other two Medjai girls continued making the salve for Tiri’s neck wound. “The custom started long ago when the Medjai first started guarding the City of the Dead for Pharaoh Seti I. At that time,” Jahira continued, “the Medjai was led by Head Chieftain Menetnashte. He was known throughout Egypt as ‘the Powerful One Who Thrives in the Harshest of Deserts’ and he had twelve sons that he brought up to be just as powerful, if not more so, than he…  
"Each was made Chieftain of his own army of Medjai warriors, who were loyal to him and his region of Egypt. Head Chieftain Menetnashte’s youngest son was given the task of protecting Hamunaptra. You see," she said conspiratorially, "Pharaoh was very anxious to gain the approval and influence of the Medjai - because the Medjai would be a most powerful ally to his empire. Our ancestors had kept invaders from breaking through Egypt’s borders for centuries and, in truth, the Medjai’s vast army greatly outnumbered Pharaoh’s own Egyptian army, so appeasing the Medjai was a necessity for the Pharaoh to keep harmony in his empire. It was as the Pharaoh was entertaining Head Chieftain Menetnashte and his twelve sons that our custom first formed," she said, while caressing her own indigo streak for emphasis. "For the youngest Medjai Chieftain came to fall in love with Nefertiri, the princess of Egypt. It was forbidden, however, because the princess was betrothed to her brother, Ramses II."  
Tiri suddenly flashed back to the colossal statue of Ramses II housed in the Cairo Museum of Antiquities. It is what she had been looking at with a feeling of déjà vu…  
"Ramses II was Seti I’s successor to the throne of Egypt. He was, however, off expanding Egypt’s borders at the time. So the young Medjai Chieftain and the princess had time to grow close. Princess Nefertiri was known for her beauty throughout the land, and one of the favorite beautifiers that ancient Egyptians liked to employ was henna or blue-black Nubian wigs. The princess was, of course, a trendsetter and, during the time she and the Medjai Chieftain fell in love, she had fashioned her hair to have one streak of blue at the nape of her neck. It, of course, became the fashion, and after her untimely death, Medjai women tried to ensnare the young Medjai Chieftain by doing their hair in the same style as his beloved princess had. The tradition stuck with our people, and that is why it is seen as a symbol of beauty," Jahira concluded.  
Jahira’s tragic Medjai love story made Tiri’s hair stand on end. She inaudibly shivered from the sudden hypersensitivity to her skin. Suddenly there was way more to Nefertiri than just a princess who had fallen off a balcony.  
"Wow," Laxmi said, impressed with the story. "No wonder Ardeth Bay couldn’t keep his hands off you," she added jokingly to Tiri. "You were tempting him with your blue beauty mark!"  
A palpable silence descended upon the room. Tiri wanted to throttle her unfiltered best friend.  
Laxmi’s eyes widened when she finally realized that she’d put her foot in her mouth. “Oh, um… None of you are his wife, are you?”  
Jahira shook her head adamantly in the negative. All three Medjai girls were staring at Tiri in wonder. “The Head Chieftain has never taken a wife… Is he pursuing you? Truly?”  
Tiri shifted her eyes around the room. She was horribly tongue-tied in this moment. What if it was against their law or something that he kiss an outsider? She didn’t want to have Ardeth Bay getting in trouble with his people on her conscience. Plus, in truth, she really didn’t have the first clue what Ardeth Bay was doing with her. Warning her of impending danger while copping a feel while he was at it? …Was that how Medjai men courted girls? For some reason in all this weirdness the answer to that question seemed like a yes… “N-no, of course not. Laxmi just likes to joke around is all.”  
"Oh… Funny," Jahira said unconvincingly. "You have a wound that needs cleaning," she said briskly all of the sudden. She turned and brought the silver tray with the mixture the other two girls had finished making, plus a moistened cloth. She came forward to start cleansing the sand and grime away from the wound.  
Tiri protested, “Oh no you don’t have to go through the trouble of doing that. I’ll do it mysel-“  
Jahira batted her hand away. With a friendly smile, she said “Guarding the secrets of Egypt is not all that we Medjai are known for. We also are a hospitable people to those that we care for.”  
Tiri didn’t know what to say to that. So she just let Jahira clean the wound while the other two girls drew a bath the size of a small lap pool. The girls quickly worked in silence, filling the bath with scented oils. The smell of vanilla and jasmine filled the air.  
Jahira instructed both Tiri and Laxmi to undress and get into the bath. She told them that she and the other girls would come back with clothing for them to wear. Tiri gratefully slipped off the ridiculously little top and undid her jeans.  
As the Medjai girls were just departing from the room, the clang of a heavy metal object crashed to the floor.  
'Oh Gods. Ardeth Bay's golden dagger.' Somehow she had forgotten.  
The Medjai girls quickly whipped around at the sound to make sure everything was all right. Tiri’s eyes locked on Jahira as the young Medjai woman stared at the golden dagger on the floor. Recognition flashed in her eyes, and she turned her gaze on Tiri.  
She did the strangest thing. She smiled, and then, without a word, departed from the room, the two other girl’s trailing after her.  
Tiri quickly retrieved the dagger and nestled it inside her pile of clothes so it could no longer be seen.

/

Jahira, Aaliyah, and Karawan were back within half an hour. Tiri and Laxmi were both freshly bathed and wearing black linen Medjai robes that had been left for them. They had collected friends. A very rambunctious six year old girl named Sahara was pestering them with questions in English (for Laxmi’s benefit) while her dutiful mother Nafre tried to keep her in check.  
"Do you like it here? Because if you do you can stay," the little girl said excitedly. Her two front baby teeth had recently fallen out, so she spoke with a lisp. "You can live in my room with me! We can play princesses every day and kill the bad mummies!"  
There was a collective laugh around the room, and Jahira presented Tiri with a cloth bundle of black and silver while Karawan handed one to Laxmi as well. Tiri thanked her and started to dress, feeling so very comfortable and at ease in this community-oriented tribe.  
"Sahara," her mother said with a laugh. "I think you should ask your father and I first before you invite people to live in your room with you."  
"Oh," the little girl said, seeming to remember herself. "Mummy, can they li-”  
"No," her mother Nafre said in good-nature. "I’m sure Tiri and Laxmi have homes and families of their own."  
Tiri smiled as she smoothed her black dress down. She noticed that it was different in make than all of the other womens. The Medjai girls had even dressed Laxmi the same as them in the pretty knee length silver and black tunic dress. But Tiri was dressed in a solid black gown that skimmed to the floor. Her arms were encased in long black sleeves and the neckline to the front of the dress plunged in a narrow V-line down to just above her bellybutton. Two slim bands of silver - one linked under her bust, and the other at the narrowest part of her waist - kept the dress in place. Tiri was too polite to ask why she was dressed differently…but she had a sneaking suspicion that it had to do with the smile that Jahira had given her after she saw that Tiri had Ardeth Bay’s jewel encrusted gold dagger.  
"Wow," little Sahara said in awe. Her eyes were as round as saucers. "Mummy, she looks like a princess! Can she sit with us at dinner?"  
Nafre looked from Jahira’s impish face to Tiri, and said with a bemused smile, “I believe our guests will be dining at Head Chieftain Ardeth Bay’s table tonight.”

/

Jahira, Aaliyah, and Karawan led Laxmi and Tiri to the group of men they had originally come with. They were in the base of another mountain, in an echoing dining hall furnished in a blend of ornate Egyptian textiles and colored glass reliefs of Egyptian mythology scenes. The rich aroma of spice blends wafted through the air, and Tiri could hear murmurs and clanking pots and pans from the very back of the room, where the open air kitchen was filled with tribesman and women cooking up a storm. She noticed that most of the Medjai had taken off their outer robes to enjoy the forgiving dusk weather.  
There were rows upon rows of very low, long tables that were furnished with thick black table clothes and thick, antique gold pillar candles which added the scents of sandalwood, cinnamon, frankincense, and cypress to the air. Upon the tables were silver goblets, plates, eating utensils, and black linen cloth napkins shimmering with silver geometric and calligraphic designs. There was a black pillow to signify each individual seat. Tiri and Laxmi were led to the head table, which was the most ornate, with black and gold candle holders in the form of Isis with scarab wings and silver candle holders with lotus flower motifs and dangling Ankh symbols, which stood for Eternal Life. Her family and the Casablancas men, now all cloaked in black thanks to the Medjai, sat with Ardeth Bay.  
As she sat down on a pillow at the low table with her family she noticed that the Medjai girls that had bandaged her wound and dressed her did not stay around very long. They strode away very fast, giggling, as if they did not want to get reprimanded for doing something very naughty.  
Tiri warily turned away from the trickster Medjai girls and directed her attention to the table.  
They had led her to sit directly across from Ardeth Bay.  
Tiri lowered her kohl lined eyes - but not fast enough to miss the mesmerizing complexities swimming within the depths of the dark warriors eyes as he stared at her. It was like that first time at the museum all over again…how he had stared at her from across the room…  
And then she had woken up the next day to mysteriously find her Egyptian necklace on and a pure white lotus flower in her hair…  
And then there was the kiss in the library, and that searing night in the bathroom that she would never forget no matter how hard she tried…  
The memory of his taut, bronzed flesh came unbidden to her mind…  
"…Tiri? Tiri, dear girl, where’s your mind off to?"  
Tiri’s attention snapped to her grandfather with an unintelligent, “Huh?”  
Her grandfather smiled at her kindly. “I was telling you that the Medjai have graciously asked us to stay the night. They are going to have a feast, singing, and a ceremonial Medjai demonstration for us tonight. Isn’t that wonderful?”  
"Oh, yes," she said, meaning it. She dared not look at Ardeth Bay - as if looking at him would somehow betray herself of where her thoughts had wandered to.  
Laxmi, who was sitting on Tiri’s other side, spoke to Ardeth Bay. “So… Are Medjai warriors allowed to date outside of the Medjai social sphere?”  
Tiri almost choked on the water she was drinking. Her best friend was giving a rather handsome warrior a few tables down the old hairy eyeball. The warrior was staring back. It seemed to be a mutual ogling.  
Ardeth Bay looked at Laxmi as if she was a rather bizarre new species because of her blunt way of talking, but he smiled at her, and it wasn’t unfriendly. “Medjai men and women are allowed to leave the tribe, if they wish, to pursue higher learning and find a life partner.”  
A wicked smile that could rival the Grinch’s settled on Laxmi’s face. She pinched Tiri’s arm under the table. Oh, well of course she had ulterior motives!  
Something about the way her best friend was trying to play match maker stiffened Tiri’s resolve. She pinched Laxmi back and met Ardeth Bay’s gaze head on, challenging him with a stare that said ‘you don’t intimidate me OR electrify my senses’.  
'…Until you talk, that is,' she mentally added as he spoke again.  
"But you will find that committing yourself to a Medjai should not be taken lightly," he spoke the words to Laxmi, but he only had eyes for Tiri. "For the bond between man and woman has always been sacred to our people. Our society is built on trust and honor. If you ensnare a warrior of the Medjai, he will hold you above all else and devote his life to protecting you. It is our way."  
Suddenly Laxmi - who was a total commitment phobe - could not meet the gaze of the handsome Medjai warrior a few tables down.  
Tiri didn’t know what to make of the implication in Ardeth Bay’s gaze. All she knew was that she suddenly felt naked before his heated dark eyes - and, oh wait, that’s when she made the connection that she HAD been naked before his gaze before.  
She broke eye contact with him then, her blush all too obvious to the immortal Head Medjai Chieftain across the table from her. She did her best to avoid eye contact with the dark warrior for the rest of dinner, and it was agonizing because it was long - drawn out by idle conversation and twelve courses.  
After the sixth course was an interlude in which Medjai singers took to the front of the room while hundreds of black clad individuals watched from their comfortable seated positions on pillows. Most of the ballads were in Arabic and about honor, strength, devotion to Allah and the ancient Gods of Egypt…and love. (These ballads made her feel especially uncomfortable with Ardeth Bay’s gaze steadfastly fastened on her.)  
There was one singer who made Tiri forget her predicament for a short time. A beautiful girl with mocha colored skin, a swan-like neck, and dark red hair sang ballads in ancient Egyptian. Her voice was the most hypnotizing. It was a smokey voice, that oozed dulcet honey tones. Tiri was lulled into enchantment by this voice - so when the Medjai fighting demonstrations commenced she was suddenly jolted into alertness.  
Man competed against man, and woman competed against woman. It was spectacular to behold! Suddenly Tiri fully understood what Jahira meant about the Medjai being more tolerant in their culture. For more darkly tanned skin was showing than was covered on the Medjai fighters! The men wore short black kilts and black headdresses while the women wore black skirts with silver chains holding up the intricate ceremonial garb and silver breastplates. They wielded daggers and scimitars and even many ancient weapons that Tiri had never seen before. After the demonstrations were over the dining hall buzzed with renewed conversation as everyone discussed their favorite parts of the performances. The last six courses were brought out one by one. Just when Tiri was sure she would burst from the abundance of herb and spice laden food it was announced that, after prayer, dinner would be over, and it would be time for all to go to bed - especially warriors who had early morning patrols out in the desert. Hundreds of Medjai unfurled their prayer mats and got into prayer position. Tiri’s group bowed their heads and waited for the Medjai out of respect.  
After ten minutes of silent prayer the Medjai rolled up their mats. Friends said a few last parting words before departing to their quarters. It was Ardeth Bay himself who led the group of foreigners to the guest rooms that they would be sleeping in for the night. Tiri and Laxmi’s room was the last stop. Tiri, Laxmi and Ardeth Bay stood before the sandstone archway that was the entrance to the girls’ room.  
"K, well…goodnight," Laxmi said breezily to Ardeth Bay. She disappeared through the linen cloth covering. Tiri made to follow her without a word but a hand on her wrist stopped her.  
She stared at the black linen barrier, not yet turning to face him.  
"Walk with me."  
The words formed a command, but Tiri detected a plea in there.  
She gave a heavy sigh and said over her shoulder, “As long as you promise not to kiss me. I can’t - When you do that it’s hard to think.”  
He gave a low chuckle. “I will try my hardest to keep my hands and lips to myself.”  
She looked pointedly at his large, tattooed hand encompassing her wrist. He let go with a conciliatory smile.  
With a look full of resolve, as if she was about to go into battle, she turned to face him fully and waited for him to lead the way.


	11. Chapter 11

The Mummy Fic: Namesake, Ch 11  
Disclaimer: I do not own The Mummy series and do not make any profit off of this.  
Namesake  
Chapter 11  
Jahira crept along silently. Everyone in her tribe was taught the art of stealth practically at birth because of the enormity of the secrets they guarded. So she was nimble in movement and entirely sure she would not get caught - even if it was the Head Chieftain of the Medjai she was spying on.  
He was leading the beautiful foreign girl along a path, and Jahira followed along at a safe distance with bated breath. Never in all her days had she seen him so…alive. Yes, that was the word - alive. There was a fire in his gaze that did not come alight very often. Jahira only recalled ever seeing it on the few occasions that he would tell the children of the tribe the tales of their Medjai history. And now the usually painfully serious Head Chieftain of the Medjai was actually smiling. If she dared even to think it, his smile seemed to contain a flirtatious edge and his eyes danced with heat - all directed towards the exotic-featured English girl.  
'Yes,' Jahira thought mischievously. 'Dressing Tiri in the black princess gown was a very good idea.'  
Jahira had made the gown herself. Her inspiration had come from ancient papyri line drawings of Princess Nefertiri in all of her royal finery. This particular gown was Jahira’s favorite, and it looked quite stunning on Tiri. The girl’s tall height was perfect for the long draping of the dark dress, and her small breasts somehow made the plunging neckline seem coquettish and sexy in an unassuming way. The dress looked like it had been made for Tiri’s form, and Jahira had a very good hunch that the English girl and Princess Nefertiri had a lot in common. Head Chieftain Ardeth Bay’s gaze was locked on the girl.  
It made Jahira feel like she was on the cusp of witnessing her favorite Medjai love story finally meet its happy ending. For the moment Jahira had seen that Tiri was carrying the Head Chieftain’s bejeweled golden dagger - the one that his beloved princess had given to him over 3,000 years ago - she knew that this Evelyn Nefertiri O’Connell must be a very rare and special creature.  
Jahira broke from her exciting revelations for a moment when she realized what direction Head Chieftain Ardeth Bay was leading Tiri O’Connell towards. Her eyes widened and a light blush crept onto her cheeks. He was taking the English girl to his private quarters. No one was ever permitted there, unless under express permission - and that rarely ever occurred. Jahira could go no further without dishonoring the Medjai chieftain’s right to privacy. But no matter - she did not wish to dishonor her chieftain. She had all ready seen enough to satisfy her curiosity.  
She watched with a grin as Ardeth Bay and Tiri O’Connell disappeared along the winding path.

/

Tiri and Ardeth Bay walked along pathways and stone corridors in companionable silence. Ok - maybe not companionable silence (because about a million different thoughts were whizzing through Tiri’s mind and she was really nervous to be walking alone on a moonlit, kind-of-romantic type stroll with the tall, dark and handsome immortal desert chieftain) but they were walking side by side, which could make it seem companionable to the untrained eye.  
After a few minutes of silence and walking, when Tiri was truly lost on how to find her way back to her room because of all the twists and turns along deserted passageways, Ardeth Bay finally broke the silence.  
"So," he said, clearing his throat as he led her on a narrow sand pathway leading her into parts unknown to her, "What do you think of my village?"  
The tone of his voice was unreadable, and his face was shrowded in the darkness of the night.  
"It’s like out of a fairytale," Tiri admitted a little begrudgingly, still unsure of what his intentions were to bring her out on this walk - surely it wasn’t just to ask her measly opinion of his village - but she didn’t see any reason not to be truthful.  
"A fairytale?" he said with a chuckle, seeming to approve of her assessment. "How so?"  
Tiri answered as he directed her so she wouldn’t trip over a large, stubborn root knotted into the earth. She scooped up the hem of her long dress and held it as she toiled the climb. “I am surrounded by a people that I previously thought mythical, walking around a concealed village in the middle of the desert. This place being a fairytale is not such a far-fetched concept. And with the three Medjai girls fussing over me and putting me in pretty and exotic clothing, I’ve half the mind to believe that they’re my fairy god mothers.”  
"The dress would be Jahira’s doing," he said. She couldn’t see it but she could hear the grin in his voice. "Her family is from a long line of dressmakers, tracing all the way back to when Pharaohs ruled Egypt. The skill has been passed along to her. She seems to like you very much to put you in one of her creations."  
Tiri flashed back to Ardeth Bay’s golden dagger clattering to the floor and the Medjai girl’s secretive smile.  
Tiri felt her stomach tighten in nervousness. Jahira wasn’t the only one who had gifted her with something precious. Tiri slowed her trek and felt for the dagger concealed at her waist. As she slipped it out from its hiding place, Ardeth Bay suddenly stopped in a stone courtyard on a much smaller scale than the one she had been led through earlier.  
Tiri felt goosebumps develop along her flesh as she took in her surroundings. The place was filled with life and powerful magic. She heard the sweet, tinkling sound of water cascading down fountains and splashing down on to smooth, shining river rocks. Dark green and thriving plants of exotic origins lined the borders of the majestic stone archways of what looked to be the private quarters of a very important figure - perhaps the private quarters of the Head Chieftain of the Medjai.  
Tiri’s expression was agape. She drank in the exquisitely carved lotus motifs and ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs and symbols on the pillars and archways. There were three inner archways that glowed with the golden-orange light from the chambers within. Ornate carpets and an intriguing blend of priceless ancient Egyptian furniture and the African-import of the Moroccan style peaked out of the rooms that she could see from the archways.  
When she was finally able to unglue her eyes from her surroundings, she turned back to Ardeth Bay. He had moved a considerable distance away from her, and was standing in a man-made rectangular sand arena in the middle of the stone courtyard. The sand he stood in was white and powdery-fine. It looked like an element that would be a pleasure to sink into, and it glittered like diamonds in the moonlight.  
The golden-orange glow from the chambers nearby cast a dim light which reflected on his finely chiseled features. He had been watching her take in her surroundings and was now watching her watch him. His dark eyes, which seemed to glitter in the dancing firelight, slowly drifted down her body to settle on her hand which held his golden dagger. Tiri’s attention snapped back to what she had originally intended to do when she had pulled out the dagger.  
"Here," she said, holding it out to him as she hesitantly walked over to where he stood. She stood on tiptoes as she flirted with the edge of where stone met sand. "Thank you for letting me borrow this," she said with impeccable politeness; it was a trait that had been ingrained in her from her strict manners lessons in school. "It came in handy after all."  
A slow smile crept onto his face - one filled with secrets unknown to her - as he lazily drew the proffered dagger from her grasp. His hand enveloped hers as he took the metal blade - and in quick succession he pulled her into the sand arena.  
"Hey!" she screeched out in surprise as the force of his pull made her stumble. Her stumble was broken by her fall, however, as Ardeth Bay swiftly crouched down and kicked her legs out from under her. She fell onto her bottom. Her dress lay fanned out around her legs; her hands, which had braced her fall, sunk into the white sand. "What was that for?" she asked in indignation, her eyes ablaze.  
The dark warrior bowed down to her in an elegant gesture, holding the dagger out to her within his two open palms. He met her gaze again, his own eyes ablaze with a mischievous fire. “The dagger is yours. It is a gift. To deny a gift given by the Head chieftain of the Medjai would be seen as a very serious offense by my people. You do not want to be seen as rude, do you?”  
Tiri’s mouth worked soundlessly for a few moments as her ire mounted. “Me, rude? ME? You just bloody pushed me into a sand pit and kicked my legs out from under me!”  
"That was a test to check your reflexes to see if you could hold your ground. You failed miserably. Now take the dagger," he said.  
Tiri felt her blood boil. She none-too-gently snatched the dagger from his open grasp. “Fine. Happy now!”  
"Overjoyed," he said, bating her. "Now defend yourself with it."  
"Wh-what?" she asked in a wavering voice, as Ardeth Bay again rose to his full height. Suddenly she felt very small and flimsy compared to the tall and broad-shouldered warrior. She imagined the power of his muscles rippling beneath his black robes as he started to circle her in a predatory way. It was like being at the mercy of a coiled jaguar ready to pounce at any moment. Her grip tightened on the dagger as her pulse raced. Her palms were sweating. "This isn’t funny. Now really, what do you want from me?"  
In a flash he had easily disarmed her again, knocking the golden dagger from her grasp and whirling her around so that her back was pressed against his chest. “You are right,” he said grimly, his fingers softly sliding up her throat to show her how easily she could have been dead. “This is not funny. What I want is for you to defend yourself. Again,” he said as he whirled her out of his grasp.  
She steadied herself in the yielding sand and glared at him as she retrieved the dagger. She raised the blade in the air, poised like the lethal stinger of a scorpion, and ran at him with something close to a battle cry. He chuckled darkly and dodged the blade, leveraging himself to easily scoop her up and flip her over his shoulder. He lunged down so that his weight rested on one knee and his other leg lay almost parallel to the ground. Tiri landed on her back in the sand, the air rushing out of her lungs on impact. When she had regained her equilibrium she realized that the dagger lay harmlessly in the sand yet again and Ardeth Bay towered over her. Once he had her undivided attention again he sunk down on his knees on either side of her hips, straddling her.  
Her eyes widened when she realized what he was about to do and her hand wildly shot out to search for the dagger that lay near her head, but she was too late. He had her wrists in an iron grip and lent his weight into her. “I believe that your aim was true. You could have killed me if it were not for the anger clouding your judgment. You saw red, which stiffened your movements. You must think fluidly. Do not let any one emotion ride away with your thoughts or you cannot attack or defend yourself effectively.”  
Tiri forced herself to breathe steadily. “Let go of me,” she said through grit teeth.  
He lent down even further, his lips dangerously close to her own. “Make me let go of you. Grant your own freedom.” His breath was the sweet and refreshing scent of mint; the dark leafy green had been served at the end of the meal to cleanse everyone’s palates.  
She fought wildly for her freedom, arching up to buck him off of her. He fought back - just as determined to hold his position astride her. Her body moved, but her wrists, however, did not once budge from their pinned position. She sunk back down with a hitched breath, thoroughly exhausted for her efforts. Her chest heaved as she glared at him spitefully. “What is your deal?” she asked in frustration. “Did you really ask me to come out here so that you could show your prowess in the fighting department? Because I get it! You’re good at man-to-man combat! I went to an all girls school! You know, the whole knee socks, regulatory skirts, and oxford shirts bit? I’ve been in a few hair-pulling tiffs - but never a proper fight!”  
"It is highly noticeable," he agreed. She gasped in indignation. Well - it was true but he didn’t have to agree so readily. "I made you defend yourself as a way to prepare you for what is to come."  
Tiri groaned in ultimate frustration. She once again fought against the vise of his grip. Her muscles burned from her effort. “There you go again! What is bloody well coming for me? Why don’t you just tell me instead of wasting time talking to me in circles and annoying me to death?”  
"I am annoying you?" he asked in amusement. This time his lips did brush against her own in a whisper-soft caress as he spoke.  
Tiri felt chills start along her flesh from the contact. “Yes,” she said, shoving her strong reaction to his nearness aside. She pressed her head further into the sand so that their lips no longer touched. “You’re not keeping your promise not to touch me. Why do you keep pouncing on me?”  
He laughed at her choice of words, his plush lips settling into a rakish grin. He did not grant her any more personal space. His eyes - his penetrating molten chocolate eyes - were filled with so much heat that Tiri swore she felt the rays of the sun warming her flesh even though it was night time. “I am afraid I can only annoy you further by saying that I can only answer your question with another question.” He whispered conspiratorially in her ear, “Why do you reciprocate to my touch?”  
Even as he asked the question Tiri felt her nipples tighten in arousal at the deep, velvety sound of his voice whispering in her ear. She didn’t answer him, too embarrassed of what she’d say. She tried to avoid his eyes but, really, there was no way to because of how close they were. His eyes were filled with a knowing gleam. “You are…” he started to say as he drank in the planes of her face. His rakish smile suddenly melted away to be replaced by awe and hunger. “You are so beautiful,” he said in wonder. “I have waited so long.”  
Tiri’s breath was coming out in shallow pants. There it was. His admission. She answered clearly and distinctly, “I am not Evelyn Carnahan. I may look like my great-grandmother, but that in no way makes me her.”  
He did not blink a lash. “I know that, Tiri O’Connell,” he answered back pointedly, using her nickname. That playful gleam was back in his eyes. “I do not see the resemblance.”  
Tiri felt a hitch in her breath. It was her turn to stare at him in awe.  
He slowly let go of her wrists, and sunk his hands into the sand on either side of her head. His lips were back to sliding against hers in a feather-soft intimate caress as he spoke. “It isyour eyes that have been haunting me in my dreams for as long as I can remember,” he confessed.  
He hadn’t been pining after her great-grandmother all these years after all. This knowledge made her feel inexplicably relieved and shocked at the same time. She gasped, and Ardeth Bay took it as his opportunity to hungrily plunder her mouth in a breathtaking kiss. There was nothing holding Tiri back. She sunk her newly freed hands into his thick, silky black mane of hair as their lips slid against each other and their tongues melded in an intoxicating rhythm. They went on for minutes - or maybe even hours as time was of no consequence to Tiri in the heat of the moment - and what finally brought them back up for air was when Ardeth Bay accidentally pressed the ridge of his palm too firmly into the bandage covering the wound on her neck as he held her jaw while they kissed. She gave a brief cry of pain that was replaced by a mumble of ‘no’ as Ardeth Bay pulled away from her lips.  
He smiled at her whimpered ‘no’ and ran his fingers through the soft strands of her caramel-colored hair. “I must be fragile with you.” As he said the words he lifted himself off of her and scooped her up into his arms.  
After she got over the brief shock of him picking her up - it wasn’t the first time he’d done it after all - she rolled her eyes. “Were you not here a few minutes ago when I was getting beat up by, oh yeah, YOU? And I can walk, you know. It was only a scratch.”  
"I would never lay a hand on you in a harsh manner. Your necklace would have burnt me if I meant you harm. And I know you can walk," he said casually. "If you want your freedom to walk, make me let go of you," he said in an echo of his earlier declaration when he had her pinned to the ground.  
"Somehow earning my freedom to walk seems like it would be a huge hassle," she said blithely as she eyed where he was carrying her towards. It was the three intricate archways that were lit up by the bright golden-orange glow. She felt her stomach fill with butterflies as she had a sneaking suspicion of where those entranceways led to. "Where are you taking me?"  
Their eyes locked as he answered. “My rooms.”  
"Why?" she asked, trying to sound as casual as he.  
"I have a better remedy for your wound."  
"Oh," she said, slightly disappointed by his answer. She heard him chuckle, seeming to be amused by her sour expression, but her disappointment quickly evaporated as they walked through the middle, and tallest, archway. The room was exquisitely furnished, and Tiri didn’t know where to look to first. Her eyes finally settled on the sumptuous platform bed that was layered in the finest looking Egyptian linens and imported silks. Something about the bed struck a memory that was escaping her… In fact, a lot of the objects in the room gave her a strange sensation of déjà vu, like she had visited them in a dream… Ardeth Bay set her down on the bed. He just stood in front of her for a moment, seeming to commit the image of her onto memory, before he excused himself to retrieve the remedy for her wound.  
She watched him walk through an arched doorway, which led to a different chamber of his rooms. When he was no where to be seen she turned her attention back to the room. Her eyes traveled to the ceiling, which was exotically draped in fabric that was pinned at the center of the ceiling and then tented out to the far reaching corners of the room. The fabrics were gossamer colors that included emerald green, crimson, gold, plum purple, and indigo blue. Her gaze then skittered to the furniture. An ancient Egyptian chair that was inlaid with gold and had the claws of a lion for legs was situated at a neatly organized desk which contained scrolls, official looking documents, and other little ancient trinkets, such as a compelling chest that was the size of a show box. It was made of stone and was inlaid with ivory, pearl, and gold. The chest was wide open and she noticed that blue plumes of perfumed smoke were wafting out from the inside. Her burning curiosity to go and fiddle with the intriguing objects was overpowering. She craned her neck to see if Ardeth Bay might be on his way back, but there was no sign of him - so she decided to acquaint herself with the room.  
She stepped onto a genuine ancient Persian carpet and passed a wall of mounted ancient weapons that were on display. Dozens of wickedly curved blades gleamed in the firelight, which was coming from thick pillar candles that were situated throughout the room. She made her way over to Ardeth Bay’s desk, trying not to take notice of his elegant documents written in Arabic script (she didn’t want to be a total snoop), and turned her attention to the breathtaking little ancient Egyptian chest. Tiri had been told stories about chests inflicted with gruesome curses that could wreak havoc on the poor souls who were unlucky enough to open them, but something about this chest seemed…good. Besides, it had all ready been opened long before she came along it seemed. She steadied the scenes inlaid on the outside of the chest. One side depicted the Goddess Isis on the throne, another was of Isis and her husband Osiris with linked hands, the third was of Isis nursing her infant son Horus, and the last was of Isis protecting the Egyptians as their enemies were killed by her magic spells. Tiri then turned her sights to the inside, intending to find incense burning - but there was no incense. There wasn’t anything inside the chest but the ethereal blue plumes of smoke which magically wafted out.  
"I have the remedy," Ardeth Bay said right next to her ear.  
Tiri whirled around with a stricken look on her face as if she had been caught doing something very naughty.  
At the look on her face, Ardeth Bay set a bowl with a dark green paste in it down on an unused portion of his desk and made quick work of undoing her bandage. “You are welcome to look around my rooms as long as it pleases you.”  
Unable to hold herself back she asked, “Where is the smoke in the Isis chest coming from?”  
As she asked the question, he lathered the dark green paste on her neck. It was cooling and soothing at the same time. He grinned as he methodically worked. “From Isis.”  
Tiri stared at Ardeth Bay as if he had grown another head. His expression remained amused but something in his gaze was quite serious. Suddenly he took out a carved piece of ivory. He pointed it at her neck wound while he said an ancient Egyptian incantation from memory. At his last word a heat infused her neck briefly and then was gone.  
Wide-eyed, Tiri clasped her hand to her throat. The skin was smooth and tingled pleasantly from the remnants of the magic. She looked from the magical chest to Ardeth Bay. “What? How? …What?”  
Ardeth Bay stepped up to her, his form flush against hers as he set the ivory wand down on the desk. He pressed his hand into the small of her back, bringing them even closer together. “When the time is right this will all make sense to you,” he said cryptically. A million questions were fighting to burst forth from her lips but he silenced her with a bruising kiss.  
With her wound magically healed, the time to be gentle was over. Tiri moaned into his mouth. She seriously thought about stopping to interrogate him some more but then suddenly she was pressed into the soft bed with Ardeth Bay’s hard body pinning her down in a most pleasant way and the serious thought slipped her mind.  
"Stay with me tonight," he said ardently, his voice deep and gravelly with arousal.  
Tiri thought she said ‘yes’ or ‘ok’ or something to that effect because he made a deep ‘mmmm’ sound of approval and then he was slipping the soft black material of her dress off of her shoulders, kissing the flesh that was not hidden beneath her usekh collar.  
The feel of his soft, hot lips kissing a trail down her chest sent liquid fire to course through her veins. This time she knew that she said ‘yes.’ Her hard little pink areolas were suddenly exposed to the air and being alternately sucked and licked by the dark warrior. She moaned in renewed pleasure and threw her head back, basking in the wonderful new sensations awakening in her body. She had never felt such a need so acute as she did when she was touching and being touched by Ardeth Bay.  
"Too much clothes," she said breathily, pulling him back up to kiss her. He groaned his approval against her lips and quickly divested himself of his robes, scarf and tunic shirt. She drank in his bare torso, taking the time to really notice the ancient Egyptian tattoo over his heart on his left pectoral muscle. It looked somehow different than his sacred marks. It was where he had put her hand on him the first time she had seen his exposed bronze flesh. Tiri sat up on the bed, the top half of her dress sliding down her arms. Ardeth Bay followed the gentle sway of her breasts with his eyes and sat up with her. She put her hand over his tattoo, tracing it with her finger. His eyes fluttered closed at the gentle sensation. He again uttered that same epithet that she did not understand - she was almost sure it had to be something in ancient Egyptian - and then his eyes were open again.  
He took her hand in his and gently kissed it. “Lay back down for me Tiri. I want to touch you.”  
Tiri felt a thrill shiver down her spine. She laid back in Ardeth Bay’s richly furnished bed and felt her flesh tighten in anticipation as he crawled on top of her. She whimpered as the hard wall of his chest slid against her hardened nipples. “Tiri,” he moaned, rolling his hips in between her thighs. They clashed in a hot, deep kiss as he pulled off her dress from her arms all the way off. He then cupped a breast in his battle-roughened palm and massaged the mound as they kissed and softly rolled their hips together. Tiri whimpered in a pleasured haze as a need deep inside her grew and grew. The hand that wasn’t massaging her breast pulled the bottom half of her dress up, bunching it around her waist and exposing her naked thighs and femininity. He pulled away from her lips to watch her expression as he slid a long, darkly tanned finger along her creamy pale olive thighs and then slid it along the moist petals of her. She cried out in pleasure and he breathed out a curse in Arabic, saying, “So wet.”  
His dark eyes were drowning her with their need. "I need to taste you,” he rasped out in Arabic, suddenly a man possessed by his desire. Her thighs were suddenly pressed as far apart as they could go and the Head chieftain of the Medjai had his head between her legs. Tiri cried out, first in embarrassment because she had never been exposed so intimately to another person before, but it soon turned into a cry of ecstasy as the flat of his tongue flicked her pleasure-sensitive clit.  
"Oooooh. Don’t stop. Please," she found herself moaning out in a guttural womanly voice she didn’t even know she possessed until now.  
Her heated pleas urged him onwards and he reverently licked at her wetness, telling her how beautiful she was and how much he desired to please her. Tiri felt a new flush of wetness at his words, and he growled and eagerly lapped it up.  
Yes, yes, yes, yes was the chant that was going through her mind. The dark warrior switched to pleasuring her clit with his finger and slid his tongue down to her entrance. He swiftly plunged his tongue inside of her and flicked it against her inner walls as he vigorously plunged it in and out. Tiri screamed as an overwhelming sense of pleasure enveloped her and she shuddered uncontrollably as Ardeth Bay took her over the edge with his mouth. Her orgasm seemed to crest higher and higher. Ardeth Bay was relentless in his pleasuring of her and her vision dimmed to black as one last excruciatingly pleasurable orgasm ripped through her body.  
When she regained her senses Ardeth Bay was laying next to her. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “There you are,” he murmured. She could taste her essence on his lips and, oddly enough, it sent a little thrill through her.  
"That was…" she trailed off with a blush.  
"I know," he said with a chuckle. His large hand ghosted along her naked hip. "You are amazing," he said in awe, his voice laced with heated desire. "How your body responds…" His roaming gaze finally settled back at her eyes. His irises were almost black with lust. She felt her body tighten with need all over again.  
"I want to touch you," she said, shyly placing her hand on the straining bulge in his black pants.  
He hissed in pleasure. His head fell back into the pillows. “Yes, please do.”  
Before she went to touch him more intimately she unhooked the silver straps at her waist behind her back so that she could take her dress off all the way. She didn’t want it hanging around her middle anymore. When she was completely bare she focused her attention back on Ardeth and gasped. He had languidly rolled his head back to watch her undress and had released his long and thick erection from its confines. His hips rolled up languidly as his hand slid up and down along his shaft, squeezing as he got to the belled tip. Tiri watched as a pearly liquid leaked profusely from the very thick and needy head of his penis.  
"Please," he gasped. "Touch it."  
She looked up to find him staring at her as he caressed himself. She plucked up the courage to be bold and started to slowly slide down his body.  
"I want to taste it."  
He gasped and raised his head from the pillows to watch her mouth slide around the head of his manhood.”Tiri,” he moaned in pleasure. “Yessss.”  
Tiri had never pleasured a man with her mouth before, but instinct took over. Her need to make him feel good after he made her feel so good urged her onwards. She licked and sucked the tip, emboldened as he shivered and cried out her name again. His taste was musky with a salty hint as precum continued to leak from the tip in his excitement. His responses to her touch were intoxicating to her and she found her own excitement mounting as she pleasured him with her mouth.  
She felt his eyes watching her as she sucked and she boldly met his eyes, feeling a thrill at her naughtiness. As their eyes met he said her name on a drawn out moan and came. Taken off guard, she started to drink his salty essence. She sucked until his last pleasured convulsions subsided. He pulled her up to him with a satiated moan and kissed her lightly.  
Their kisses quickly grew emboldened again, and she moaned out, “More,” in between kisses. She wanted to get swept away in her newfound sexuality again.  
“With pleasure,” the dark warrior said in Arabic with a grin. He once again slid down her body.


	12. Chapter 12

The Mummy Fic: Namesake, Ch 12  
Disclaimer: I do not own The Mummy series and do not make any profit off of this.  
Namesake  
Chapter 12  
Tiri abruptly woke from a heavy sleep. A rush of air streamed out of her parted lips as she blinked her eyes awake. What a fevered dream she’d had. The kisses and the sliding of flesh had seemed so real…  
A muscular arm promptly snaked around her waist, under her breasts, and a face nuzzled into the crook of her neck. A distinctly masculine face with trimmed facial hair.  
Tiri’s eyes widened in dawning realization.  
Oh.  
It hadn’t been a fevered dream. Tiri was in the aftermath of her fevered reality.  
She bit her lip as a way to quell a squeak of hysteria.  
What the buggering hell had she been thinking?  
She’d done…things…with the immortal leader of the twelve tribes of the Medjai.  
Who had made it perfectly clear to her during dinner the night before that one mustn’t do said things with a Medjai warrior unless one was ready for commitment!  
Why did her senses always leave her whenever she was around the dark warrior?  
“Stop whatever it is you are thinking. It is making you tense,” Ardeth Bay said softly as he leisurely rained hot little open-mouthed kisses on her neck.  
Oh – that’s why. The nervous squeak escaped her. She tried to nonchalantly wiggle out of his grasp but his hold on her would not budge. “Tiri,” he said warningly.  
“I’ve got to use the lavatory,” she said hastily over her shoulder.  
Ardeth Bay deftly flipped her onto her back so that she was almost nose to nose with him. He searched her eyes and a frown settled on his face. “You are wasting energy fighting this. Everything that has transpired between us has been preordained to happen.”  
What did that even mean? “Er, ok. Where’s the lavatory?”  
He sighed and let her go. “Follow me,” he said, muttering something containing ‘stubborn woman’ in Arabic. He rose from the bed. Naked.  
Very, very naked.  
Tiri had to rip her eyes away from his bronzed muscular form as he slowly stretched his arms over his head. She preoccupied herself by primly wrapping a linen sheet around herself.  
When she finally got the courage to look up again he was pointedly staring at her with an inky black eyebrow arched to show his disapproval of her covering herself up. He was still very much naked. “This way,” he said as he led her along.  
She tried her hardest not to stare at his tight bum as he led the way. ‘Tried’ being the key word here.  
They exited out of the same archway which Ardeth Bay had gone down the night before to get the magical salve. They were in a stone corridor and he directed her to enter the first entranceway on the left. She was in an exquisitely furnished bathing room. The room was swathed in warm sand colored tile. A giant built-in bathtub, the likes of which fit into every hot blooded woman’s fantasies, was prominently on display. There were Egyptian hieroglyphs glazed onto the floor tiles of it. Tiri walked past what looked to be the Egyptian version of a fainting couch, towards a water-closet hidden behind a papyrus screen. Modern plumbing, she noted before she went into hyperventilating mode.  
Well, it wasn’t exactly fooling around with the Pharaohs daughter – but fooling around with the Head Chieftain of the Medjai seemed like it entailed some serious consequences as well. Funny how she never was able to think that far ahead while she was in the heat of the moment.  
Tiri was in way over her head. This place was so eerie. Even Ardeth’s washroom. Besides the whole magical vibe she was getting from this place, there was his and her’s everything. Why would an unmarried man have his and her sinks and feminine accents decorating his rooms? Tiri had a feeling she all ready knew the answer – just remembering the way his eyes seared into her gave her the none-too-subtle hint – but her brain was having trouble processing that.  
‘He couldn’t possibly be entertaining fantasies that we could be together,’ she rationalized in her head. She was no Medjai warrior woman. She was a silly English girl who was only in Egypt because she was a pushover and was going to be doing a movie to make her parents happy. Hardly Medjai bride material.  
Outside of the screen covered lavatory Tiri heard the splash of water hitting tile. Ardeth Bay was filling the bathtub. Tiri peeked out from around the screen. His darkly tanned form was bent over as he poured scented oil into the frothing water. She was enthralled by the play of muscles rippling in his back and the light floral fragrance drifting into the air. Lotus oil. She hid behind the screen again as he turned facing in her direction and stepped into the quickly filling bath. He sunk into the water, his head cradled by the curve of the edge of the tub. His eyes closed and his face transformed into a softened expression that made him look much younger than he was. ‘However old that is,’ Tiri mentally added with a frown. He slid his head under water for a brief moment, wetting his hair. He rose just enough for his head to be cradled again, his black hair now in shining wet tendrils.  
“Are you going to just stand there staring at me or are you going to join me?” he asked nonchalantly, his eyes still closed.  
Tiri felt her heart jump into her stomach. The man was so unnerving. She sheepishly stepped out from behind the papyrus screen. “I wasn’t staring I was…contemplating.”  
“I like that you are a smart girl, but in this case I feel you may be over thinking things. Now, come. Get in.”  
Tiri huffed primly, crossing her arms over her chest. “But that would only confirm what I was thinking, so I don’t think I will.”  
He cracked an eye open, looking seriously put-out. “This girl will be the death of me,” he mumbled in Arabic. Louder, in English, he asked in a droning voice, “And what is it that you were thinking?”  
“First of all, you’re immortal, so I really doubt that I’ll be the death of you – since you can’t die and all,” she said waspishly, letting him know that if he was going to mumble that he should at least do it in a language she didn’t understand. Both of his eyes opened at this remark – and was he smirking at her? “And I was thinking that the only reason I’m here in Egypt is because I’m going to star in a film because it’s what so many others want for me – even though I’m not too keen on the idea myself. But I’m going to do it, like all of the modeling jobs I’ve ever done, because it makes my family happy. I give in to others,” she confessed with a resigned sigh.  
He regarded her for a moment. “It is curious then,” he said pensively, sitting up to level her with his gaze, “That you have been so obstinate against me ever since we have met. There was a defiant fire in you when you refused to wear Nefertiri’s necklace, and last night when we were sparring, and even now as you refuse to bathe with me…” His eyes were fastened on her in such a way that it made goosebumps form on every pore of her body. He looked like the cat that had gotten the cream. “Perhaps Egypt agrees with you.”  
Her eyes narrowed. “Or maybe you just really know how to rub me the wrong way.”  
His eyes seared her with their heat. “Then, please, show me the right way to rub you.”  
Tiri felt a fierce blush bloom on her cheeks. Oh if only the ground could open up and swallow her whole right this instant. “That’s not what I meant,” she muttered. Besides, there was nothing she could teach him in the…erm…pleasuring…department. He played her body like it was a well loved instrument that he’d had for years.  
“Fine,” he said softly, his voice like roughened silk. He slid a square, masculine hand along his taut and glistening chest, lathering the soapy water onto his skin. “Then take a bath with me – but only because you want to.”  
“I don’t, uhm-” she said, wavering. Her eyes followed the path of his hand. A bath did actually sound pretty good at the moment. Last night had been really…sweaty.  
“Let me wash you,” he said. “Please.” His words were like a smoldering caress along her skin.  
Tiri blinked her glazed-over eyes. She hadn’t been paying attention to the fact that he had stealthily been inching closer to her and was now directly in front of her in the bath. He stood up, water sloshing down his body. He held out his hand to her.  
Her heart was beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings as she eyed his hand. It was like an echo of last night when he had held the dagger out to her. Ever since she had met him she seemed to be unable to help herself. It was like she was magnetized to his touch. It felt so natural. She took his hand, letting the linen sheet fall to the floor.  
She watched him take in a sharp inhale. A feminine thrill went through her as she saw him struggle to keep his gaze from lowering from her eyes. It was that open hunger he had for her that did her in every time. It ceased to amaze her that this fierce warrior who thrived in one of the harshest places on earth was so easily brought to his knees by her.  
Her. Tiri O’Connell. Gangly, bookish English girl who had only one friend and no fighting skills whatsoever.  
The unrestrained longing in his eyes, his voice, his touch were what both emboldened her and scared the hell out of her at the same time. She didn’t understand it. She didn’t understand why every time she was near him it seemed he was marking her as his with his eyes and actions. She didn’t understand why she felt like she could tell him anything and he would be there for her, with no agenda, just fierce loyalty and an honest need to help her through her darkest hours. She didn’t understand why she was starting to feel the same way about this secret-harboring desert man. But maybe not knowing why for now was ok. Maybe.  
This time he led her gently to him. He embraced her into his arms, his body warm and moist from the bath. He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her forehead, eyelids, and cheeks. He cupped the back of her head in his palm, the other caressing her back, as he brushed his lips lightly against hers. His touch was so light, that it made Tiri understand he was giving her the power. She was the one controlling their actions right now. She stepped into the bath, and he obligingly stepped back further into the bath to accommodate her. She pressed her hands against his chest, directing him to lie back in the reclining position he had been in earlier. He watched her standing over him, the admiration in his gaze tempered by a gentle smile. She slid down into the water to perch on his knees, weightless.  
“Wash me,” she said lightly, a self-conscious tint to her words.  
He gave her another light kiss and then pulled a folded cloth from its place beside the bathtub into the water, lathering it with soapy water. “But of course.”  
The self-conscious ball in the pit of her stomach vanished at his words, replaced by a warm and thankful feeling at how gracious and comforting he was being.  
“Will you turn around for me so that I can start at your back?” he asked softly.  
She gave him a cheeky smile and turned her back to him, saying over her shoulder, “Yes. But only because you asked so nicely.”  
A deep chuckle sounded from behind her. He spoke while starting to gently soap her back, “Yes, I am afraid being the leader of the Medjai has desensitized me to using proper manners. I find myself having to be commanding all the time, for the one in power must show no weakness. But you have reminded me that kindly asking does not lessen my ability to get the outcome that I desire. In fact, asking nicely seems to be even more rewarding in this situation as it has put a beautiful woman in my lap, telling me what to do.”  
She laughed, biting her lip to try to control the dopey smile that was trying to form on her face. She couldn’t get control of it – but, no matter, as he couldn’t see her face. “It’s like the saying: ‘You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.’”  
“Yes. That makes much sense,” he said. “Your eyes – they are the color of honey.” He gently directed her to face him again as he said this. “And your honey eyes have ensnared me.” A tingle went down her spine. They stared at each other as he lathered her shoulders. The peaks of her nipples were tightening into little pink buds of need. She knew that he had noticed her reaction to his words and caresses because his eyes were darkening with desire. He slid the cloth along her breast. He purposefully led his thumb to drag across the hardened peak of her nipple.  
She moaned and pressed her sex more firmly against his rock-hard thigh, the bolt of lust going straight to her feminine core. The meaningful use of the word ‘ensnare’ was not lost on her. He had also used it last night to explain the devotion of a Medjai warrior to his chosen woman. In this moment it only heightened her need. Ardeth Bay caught his breath at her arousing reaction. He guided her to straddle his one thigh instead of his whole lap, and pressed up into her sex as she pressed down. He slid his hand down into the water to pleasure her clit with his finger as she rode his thigh.  
“Oooooh,” she moaned at the added pleasure, throwing her head back. Her long hair dragged along the surface of the water and her nubile little breasts were thrust forward enticingly towards the dark warrior. He slid her closer to him and sucked voraciously on her little pleasure peaks while pressing his erection against her hip so that the aching head felt the friction as she rode his thigh.  
“Want,” he said, the word coming out as a moan. “Want to be inside you, Tiri.” His finger slid down and just pressed within her entrance. “I want to fill you with my seed,” he breathed out.  
Her orgasm took her by surprise at his sultry words. She keened in pleasure as her femininity pulsed around the tip of his finger.  
“Yesss,” he said, urging her to ride out her orgasm on his finger, all the while being careful not to breach her maidenhead.  
“Unnnh,” she moaned, her long orgasm reverberating through her core and tingling along all of the nerves of her body. Her face was flushed with her ecstasy. He rained kisses along her face and throat as she came back to herself.  
Remembering that she was in charge, she slipped off of his thigh and laid back in the tub in the same reclining position as he and urged him to move and settle over her to cradle himself in between her thighs. “Take me,” she whispered into his ear.  
He growled and pressed his heated sex against her. He cursed in Arabic. “Tiri, you have no idea how great my need is for you.” He curled her hips up in position to accept his hot and heavy manhood. He pressed the tip against her entrance. “Perhaps if I press just within…” he said raggedly, seeming to be talking to himself.  
Tiri felt her entrance yielding to the thick tip of his length. “Please, Ardeth. Yesss.”  
He cursed again in Arabic as her hot and silken femininity squeezed around the tip of his erection. “Oh Gods, no Tiri I can’t. I will take you.”  
“I want you to,” she urged back in Arabic, feeling chills of pleasure licking at her as he thrust the tip a little more inside of her at her encouragement. So close…  
With a distraught groan he suddenly pulled back, forcing himself and a small tidal wave of water to the other side of the bathtub. His flushed and needy erection bobbed against his stomach as he gasped for cleansing breaths, trying to regain his control.  
Tiri gasped in surprise. “Why- why won’t you take me?” she asked in a small voice.  
At the hurt look on her face he rushed back over to her, cupping her face. “When you come back, I will have you. Over and over and over again,” he said in Arabic with a promising grin. “But now is not the right time for me to take your innocence. But trust me, I will have you.”  
A little confused, she nodded her head. When she came back to where? His village? Egypt?  
He kissed the confused look off of her face. “You are mine,” he said, the lust back full-force. “Trust me,” he repeated.  
It was wrong, but his words pleased and aroused her even further.  
With a sudden burst of renewed enthusiasm, he led her out of the bathtub, dripping out of the chamber and slid her wet body back onto the bed. He slid into a straddled position on top of her, and squeezed his length, starting a pumping rhythm. The tip of his manhood was dangerously close to her breasts. “Will you allow me to mark you, Tiri?” he asked, a drawn out moan escaping his lips as he drank in the sight of her nude body beneath him while he stroked his length. “I want to spill my seed on you. I want to see you dripping in my desire.”  
Oh Gods, she thought, inexplicably turned on by his baser want. Her hands went up to rub her own nipples as she took in the sight of his hard and slick body. “Yes,” she breathed out.  
“Mmmm,” he moaned, the hand on his length pumping faster as he watched her touch her breasts. She squeezed her thighs together as she watched his darkly tanned hand milk pearly precum from his straining member. The liquid spilled down along the curve of the belled head and then dripped down onto her breast. She rubbed the hot pearly liquid onto her nipple, enticing him with her action. He squeezed his length, milking more drops out onto her other breast, the pressure in his loins building as he looked at her beautiful face then her slick nipples and back again. His breathing was growing harsh and his pace, frenetic.  
Tiri watched the bunching and releasing of his straining muscles as he pleasured himself over her body. She stopped touching her own body and slid her hands along his tensed thighs, rubbing up to that enticing groove where his thighs met his pubic bone. At her gentle touch, he arched over her and his whole body tensed as he moaned ‘Mine!’ and spilled his hot seed along her breasts. He pumped hot, long spurts, his desire splashing on her nipples and the curves of her breasts, marking her.  
His face was a complex blend of agonized ecstasy as he reached his peak. His sacred marks made him look like a hedonistic tribal God taking his pleasure. It was animalistic, beautiful and compelling all at the same time. Tiri wanted him again.  
He slumped down onto her body and kissed her, saying something to her in the language she assumed was ancient Egyptian. The words were like a litany of musical notes and he said them in a reverent tone that made it sound like a prayer. She wondered what the words meant and asked him.  
His breathing slowed, and he lifted his head from her shoulder with an effort. His brows scrunched together as he thought hard. He finally answered, “They are sacred words. Words to be recited to your lover.”  
Tiri didn’t know how to respond to that. All she knew was what he told her left her breathless and her heart aching sweetly. She wove her hands into the hair at the nape of his neck and initiated a slow kiss, letting it build with passion as they continued to learn each other.

/

Tiri was finally dressed. She was back in the gown she had worn briefly the night before. She was currently sitting on the edge of Ardeth Bay’s bed while using a borrowed ivory bone comb to brush through her hair with. There was a very becoming glow to her skin and a sparkle to her eyes. She was watching the dark warrior out of the corner of her eyes as he added the finishing touches to his Medjai uniform. He effortlessly sheathed two wickedly curved scimitar blades on either side of him.  
He met her gaze and smiled. “We have missed breakfast. I will go down and get us something to share up here. What would you like?”  
Tiri’s good mood was brought up short. “Missed breakfast? Did they wake my family up for breakfast? Do they know that I was out all night?”  
“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “It is still early. We in the Medjai start our days out very early. Your family are guests and will not have been woken. They will have food set out for them when they are ready.”  
Tiri gave a sigh of relief.  
Ardeth Bay gave her an amused look and lent down to kiss her lightly on the lips. “I do not think that your family would mind as much as you think they would.” With that he rose up and walked across the room to the archway leading out of his rooms. He turned when he was halfway outside of his bedroom. “And to eat? What would you like?”  
She thought for a moment. “Fruit. I really like berries, like strawberries and blueberries. Oh, and bread,” she added, suddenly realizing that she was indeed very hungry. Did sex do that? she wondered. “I really like the bread here.”  
He smiled in approval and with a nod of his head he exited the room.  
“Thank you!” she called out, remembering her manners. But Ardeth Bay was a swift man and was already gone.  
Tiri let herself drop into the pillows while she waited. She stared at the pretty cloth decorating the ceiling.  
This was insane. She was insane. Perhaps that was why she couldn’t stop smiling.  
She thought back to the night of her birthday and how she had seen a shooting star and had made a wish on it. She had wished to live her life on her terms, doing things that excited her – living out her own adventures as her relatives had done in their own day and age. Tiri was sure she had gotten what she had wished for.  
Suddenly a flutter of wings broke her from her musings. She sat up to see a majestic hawk settled on a perch near Ardeth Bay’s desk. Its head was cocked to the side and its dark eyes seemed to be staring at her inquisitively. Tiri remembered from her family’s stories that Ardeth had had a hawk named Horus in the 1930′s. It seems he had made a hawk familiar a tradition of his.  
“Well hello there,” she said softly, as not to startle the handsome feathered beast. “I hope you like strangers,” she said a little nervously. Tiri loved animals of all kinds, but because of living at school she had never had a pet of her own. Sometimes when she was out and about in London or Paris or Santa Monica alone, she would visit pet shops so she could play with puppies and kittens. She’d seen birds of prey on nature documentaries and in the zoo, but never had she seen a hawk as a pet, coming and going as it pleased. She slowly rose from the bed and walked over to stand a couple of yards away from the perch. The hawk eyed her and repositioned its talons on the bar of the perch. Tiri stopped suddenly, afraid that she might invoke an attack. It slowly settled, shaking its feathers so they fluffed out and then resettled. She smiled at her success.  
She studied the bird, and it studied her. Maybe she was going mad but its sharp little eyes seemed to be staring at her knowingly. It swiftly turned its head from her, its attention directed to the Isis chest on Ardeth Bay’s desk.  
Tiri took a step closer, curiously peaking inside even though she was sure the hawk had probably been startled by a gust of the blue smoke wafting out of the chest. She gasped when she saw a little octagonal shaped box inside.  
Images of a forgotten dream rushed to her mind. “A key,” she murmured, clasping the octagonal box in her hands. Almost effortlessly she pressed the mechanism to make it into a star shape.  
It had been a key such as this that had started Evelyn Carnahan’s adventures all of those years ago…  
Suddenly the hawk flew off of the perch and down the corridor leading into Ardeth Bay’s other rooms. The motion had startled her, but her attention was soon back on the key that she held in her hands. She turned it over in her hands, studying the ancient Egyptian designs artfully embellished onto it.  
In the distance she heard the violent flapping of wings and a pounding, as if the hawk was bashing itself against a wall, trapped. She quickly sprinted down the corridor, listening intently to hear where it had flown to. The noise was coming from the last archway on the right. She stepped into a large room that seemed to contain things Ardeth Bay wanted stored, like instruments and extra robes and tomes – lots and lots of tomes. It resembled a personal ancient library. The hawk was fluttering close to a stone door. Tiri almost dropped the key from her numb-less grip when she realized she was staring at an ancient Egyptian door. The same kind that was in Hamunaptra when she had woken up in that corridor. As soon as she walked up to the door the hawk stopped its wild flutterings and soared gracefully over to settle on a perch over in a cozy corner near the ancient books.  
She frowned at the dark warrior’s familiar. “You just sent me on a wild goose chase didn’t you? Or, well, in this case, a wild hawk chase…” Her attention was drawn back to the door. She closed the remaining distance to it, her lashes fluttering as she looked from the key to the star-shaped engraving on the door where the key would fit perfectly. She decidedly placed the key into its rightful place. She copied the combination from her dream. There was a satisfying click and then the door swung open. As she leaned in to look into the dark space, torch after torch suddenly and magically burst into life, illuminating the space.  
The cavernous space was filled with treasures far exceeding beyond her wildest imaginations. She stepped down the steep dark stone steps, pressing her hand along the stone wall to her right to keep her balance. She reached ground level. The room glittered with golden statues, ancient vases, furniture, jewelry, and paintings. She whirled around, drinking in the shimmering sights.  
A wave of unease settled upon her when she realized that there was a theme in this room. Every single last object in here depicted one particular woman. Her gaze skittered to depiction after depiction of Princess Nefertiri. She tripped over a vase. She braced her hands trying to regain her balance and she almost pitched into a canvas. She shrieked when she realized that she was staring at a painting of an ancient woman who looked exactly like her!  
In the painting, Princess Nefertiri was reclining on a spectacular chase lounge. Her blunt black Nubian wig was decorated with precious metal ornamentation and she was wearing a gorgeous dark blue dress that was so fine it was see-through at her breasts. The life-like detail was that of the Italian Renaissance… With a lurch to her stomach, she realized that this painting had been done post-humus by an artist who must have been directed by someone with vast knowledge on what she had looked like.  
Tiri stared at the princess who had her face, backing away. She painfully bumped into a blunt edge of something. She turned and, to her horror, her sights were met with a brilliant marble sarcophagus. The serious gaze of a gold and precious stone carved relief of Princess Nefertiri seemed to be staring at Tiri from the lid of the sarcophagus. It was like seeing her own face from the grave.  
She didn’t have to look to know what – or, more aptly – who, was inside there.  
Ardeth Bay was keeping Princess Nefertiri’s mummy in his private quarters.  
It all clicked into place. And it was far, far worse than her assumption that he had been in love with Evelyn Carnahan.  
He was in love with Princess Nefertiri, and he was so attracted to Tiri because of her striking resemblance to the ancient woman.  
The remark he had made about “when she came back” suddenly made sense. He was going to bring Princess Nefertiri back to life – and she was going to be his human sacrifice.  
Tiri dropped the key and ran from the room, not stopping until she finally found the guest quarters where her family resided.


	13. Chapter 13

Namesake  
Chapter 13  
Tiri’s skin was flushed hot from her sprint through the dry heat of the desert weather. Her heart beat wildly and her thoughts were in shambles. By the time she reached the room she wassupposed to have slept in, a fine sheen of perspiration was making her black dress cling to her and the soles of her feet were cut up from running through the mountainous trails barefoot.  
But the superficial wounds and her disheveled appearance didn’t matter to her. She needed to get out of this place and away from him now.  
"Laxmi," she said on a gasp, dragging in air as her momentum slowed. She thrust the black curtain aside and quickly checked over her shoulder before she went into the room. After seeing that secret room – that shrine, more like – Tiri was way beyond freaked out and had that phantom feeling that there was someone sinister just one step behind her. But her look behind her revealed that no one was there.  
Feeling a tiny bit of relief, she forcefully slowed her breathing and turned her attention to the guest bedroom. No one was here either.  
"Laxmi?" Tiri asked, a renewed edge creeping into her voice. She whirled around. The bed hadn’t been slept in. "Laxmi!" she screeched in a higher pitch voice, running to leave the room.  
In the doorway she bumped into the girl in question. “Oh Gods, Laxmi,” she said while clutching at her chest, as if it would somehow slow her fastly beating heart.  
Her best friend took in her wild appearance and the fear in her eyes. Laxmi’s dark eyes widened in concern. “Whoa, Tiri, what’s the matter? What happened?”  
"Where were you?" Tiri asked but then shook her head, deciding that that wasn’t the most important matter of concern at the time being. "We have to leave now!"  
Laxmi caught Tiri by the arm, hauling her back into the room. “Tiri, talk to me! What the hell is going on? You went with Ardeth Bay last night, right? What happened?”  
Tiri flashed to what had happened between her and Ardeth Bay. The hot touches, the sighs and moans of pleasure, the wall of his muscles encapsuling her softer form as he kissed her until everything but him dropped away…  
Only to return to stricken reality when she found the mummy of Princess Nefertiri in his secret treasure room.  
A forboding twinge filled her veins with icy dread. “He’s going to use me to get Princess Nefertiri back. He wants to use my body as a vessel to put her Ka spirit in. I saw her. There were paintings and drawings of her everywhere!”  
Laxmi’s grip on Tiri went lax and her brows scrunched together in confusion. “Ok – you’ve lost me. Princess Nefertiri?”  
Tiri sighed and tried to sound like a rational person as she explained something that, well, shouldn’t be plausible but somehow was. “Remember that story Jahira told us about the twelve sons of the Medjai? You know, the one where the youngest Medjai Chieftain fell in love with Princess Nefertiri?” When Laxmi nodded her head ‘yes’ Tiri continued. “Ardeth Bay is the youngest of the twelve original Medjai chieftains. That’s how far back his origins go. He was – is – the one that loved and still is in love with Princess Nefertiri, and he intends to use me to get her back.”  
Comprehension quickly dawned in Laxmi’s eyes at Tiri’s explanation. “Wow. That’s…heavy. But it makes sense. I mean, we didn’t know how old he was - just that he’s immortal.” She looked suddenly uncomfortable. “Did you two…?” She trailed off, leaving Tiri to fill in the blank.  
"No," she said quickly, suddenly unable to meet Laxmi’s gaze. "Well – nearly. We did…things, but he was adamant about not taking my virginity until ‘I come back,’" she said with emphasis.  
Laxmi swore on a gasp. She looked as if suddenly she understood why Tiri wanted to get out of this place so urgently. “He wants to use you as a virgin sacrafice!” They shared a frantic look before wordlessly heading out of the door together and running to the rooms housing their male companions. They quickly passed each room, telling the men that they needed to leave now. That quickly brought them all to attention and they stopped their leisurely breakfasts and gathered in a group.  
"Ardeth Bay wants to use Tiri as a virgin sacrafice!" Laxmi blurted out to the questioning men.  
All eyes were suddenly on Tiri. Tiri was accutely aware of the fatherly and grandfatherly eyes. Oh Gods.  
He grandfather stepped forward, looking completely baffled. “I’m sorry, but did you just say…?”  
"I found this secret room," Tiri cut in. "It’s like a shrine dedicated to Princess Nefertiri - and every image of her looks exactly like me! And there was a sarcophagus. Princess Nefertiri’s Sarcophagus. Ardeth Bay is in love with her and he’s going to use me to get her back."  
Her grandfather was shaking his head. “No, Tiri, there’s got to be another explanation. Ardeth Bay wouldn’t-“  
"We don’t know that," Tiri’s father cut in swiftly. Tiri was taken aback by the expression on his face. There was anger and something else glimmering in his eyes, something that Tiri could only describe as unhealed anguish. "This place – Egypt – things go wrong here. Terribly wrong. If my daughter has a hunch then we will stand by her. Haven’t we O’Connell’s always needed to rely on instinct to survive this place?" He directed the question to Grandpa Alex. The bitterness in her dad’s voice went unchecked. It put Tiri on edge, and made her want to leave this place even more.  
Her grandfather stared at her father searchingly and heaved a heavy sigh. Suddenly he looked so very tired and elderly. It made Tiri want to cry. “All right,” was all he said and he compliantly urged her father to lead the way.  
Brad O’Connell purposefully led them through the corridors. They were making their way back to their starting point. Like when she first got here, she felt the penetrating stares of black robed figures staring at her from high vantage points. Whispers pressed in around her.  
They made their way to the personal sized plane that was in its same landing place. However, when they were merely a stones throw away from the gleaming aircraft a storm of black clad figures on horseback galloped in front of them, blocking their passage to the plane. Ardeth Bay was in the very center of the Medjai warriors who were impeding their leave.  
His dark eyes were stormy and resolutely on her.  
"You cannot leave this place."  
"Like hell we can’t!" Brad O’Connell grit out in rage. He strode toward the Head Chieftain of the Medjai, his fists balled in a menacing manner.  
Ardeth Bay merely let his gaze drift over him with the ease of someone who was not threatened in the least. “Not you. You can leave whenever you wish. Your daughter is the one who must stay. The Medjai will not allow her to leave Egypt.”  
'Oh Gods, this cannot be happening,’ Tiri thought.  
Her Uncle Will joined her father and stepped menacingly towards the Head Chieftain. Several of the Medjai went to unsheathe their scimitars but Ardeth Bay signaled them to stop with a sweeping hand gesture.  
"I don’t care who the hell you are," Brad O’Connell said with venom. "My daughter isn’t property and she sure as hell can leave whenever she pleases!"  
That grimly serious visage of someone who had seen it all - seen it all and fought and killed and led thousands of men into war - was on Ardeth Bay’s face. It was the stony face of a leader. He dismounted his horse in one smooth motion and stood facing off eye to eye with her father. “No,” he said, nodding his head in her direction. “She cannot leave. Her destiny lies here.”  
Tiri felt anger, fear and uncertainty grip her.  
Her dad sucker punched him.  
Tiri and the others gasped as Ardeth Bay’s head jerked to the side. There was a heavily charged beat of silence where no one moved - and then he slowly turned his head forward. Crimson rivulets of blood were gushing from his nose and the corner of his lip. This time his men did pull out their wickedly curved scimitars. Tiri flinched as she heard metallic zings from behind her as well. With an ominous feeling she turned to look over her shoulder. They were surrounded on all sides.  
She quickly turned back around to see what would happen to her father. Once again, Ardeth Bay signaled his men to back off. He wiped the blood off of his face with the black sleeve of his robe, and in a distant part of her mind Tiri wondered if the Medjai’s affinity for black was because it hid the grizzly stain of blood.  
He stared down her father for a long, agonizing moment. And then… Then in a strange turn of events he gave a shallow nod of his head.  
“Let them pass,” he said in Arabic to his Medjai warriors as he himself stepped aside, leading his horse out of their way.  
Everyone in Tiri’s group stared at him warily, uncertain of his intentions.  
Ardeth Bay only had eyes for Tiri. It was as if he was trying to convey his intentions with just the deep liquid pools of his eyes…but it only left her in confusion. “Go,” he said in English, gesturing towards the airplane.  
His hackles still raised, her father glared at Ardeth Bay as he gestured for his group to follow him. He put a protective arm around Tiri’s shoulders and urged her to walk at his side. “Stay away from her,” he said to Ardeth Bay.  
The dark warrior’s jaw worked. He didn’t deign to answer Brad O’Connell. Instead, in Arabic, he said to Tiri, “Do not leave Egypt.”  
Tiri didn’t know what to make of his advice - but she’d find soon enough that she had no choice in the matter.

/

Tiri had watched from the airplane window as a flurry of black clad warriors rode through the desert at break-neck speed until the landscape brought them out of sight. She had an extremely uneasy feeling that they were heading towards Cairo. Her grandfather informed her, however, that it was a two day journey by horse. They had left the plane with its owner, Dr. Bey III, and had taken a cab to their place where they quickly packed and then headed to the airport.  
"I’m sorry, Sir, but all flights have been postponed indefinitely due to inclement weather," the airline ticket agent said feebly as Brad O’Connell glared at her.  
"What do you mean, inclement weather? We were just out there and the sky was as clear as can be!"  
"Fr- freak sandstorms, Sir. They just started up. However, if you wish to be notified when the flights will be running again, you can leave the airline your phone number or email address and an agent will get back to you as soon as possible," she said more brightly.  
Looking totally disgusted with this turn of the events, Tiri’s dad turned away from the poor women without so much as a ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’  
"Come on," he barked to everyone. "We’re leaving."  
As soon as they stepped out of the secure doors of the airport, a surprisingly strong wind whipped against their clothes and bit at their skin.  
Tiri had a sudden feeling of déjà vu as she remembered the freak sandstorms that had saved her, Laxmi and Manuel from their kidnappers. She was willing to bet that these sandstorms were magically occurring rather than naturally occurring as well…

/

They were back at Grandpa Alex’s place in Cairo. Her father was pacing in front of the locked door while brandishing a crude form of an ancient machete that had been on display above Grandpa Alex’s living room mantel. He was on alert in case the Medjai decided to pay them a visit. Her grandfather had eyed his son with great displeasure before asking to speak with Tiri in her room in private.  
Once settled, sitting on the edge of her bed, Grandpa Alex asked, “Are you sure about all of this Tiri? Did you see the mummy of Princess Nefertiri?”  
"Well, no," she said a bit defensively. "But the sarcophagus was right there in front of me!"  
"But you didn’t check to see if it contained a mummy," he stated pointedly.  
Suddenly she felt like a naughty child. “No,” she said, dropping her head so her hair blocked her face. “I didn’t check.”  
Her grandfather brushed her hair back behind her ear so he could make eye contact with her. A gentle smile graced his face. “You know, since you are a young woman that’s been accepted into the archeology program at Cambridge, I feel it is my duty to tell you that you will do much better in your field if you actually check the sarcophagi to make sure that the deceased in question is, in fact, in there.”  
Tiri stared in surprise at her grandfather. She hadn’t told anyone that she had been accepted to Cambridge. She hadn’t even told anyone that she had applied. "How did you-?"  
"I have my ways," he interrupted with an impish smile. "Congratulations, by the way. I thoroughly approve of your choice of career. It’s about time that we had another explorer in the family."  
"I’m not so sure that I’ll even be going to Cambridge," she mumbled. ‘Especially now,’ she thought, looking down to her hands in her lap. "I mean, I’ve got other options to consider. Modeling… Acting." That is…if she lived long enough to make it out of Egypt.  
Her grandfather’s silence made her look up to see what he was doing. She found him staring at her pensively. When he had her undivided attention he spoke. “What does your heart tell you?”  
Tiri worried at her lip for a long while before she finally answered. “My heart… It’s telling me that I didn’t check that sarcophagus.”  
Her grandfather’s smile turned into a beatific grin.

/

Moments earlier in another part of Alex O’Connell’s Cairo flat, Raul Casablancas, his son Manuel, and Will O’Connell lounged around in the room Raul was staying in. They were making sure to keep clear of Brad O’Connell because he was in a foul mood because of the Medjai.  
Raul Casablancas, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. The myths of Hamunaptra and Ahm Shere were real! The O’Connell’s really had battled mummies and Jackals and a Scorpion King! This went way beyond what he needed to know for the mummy film project to the point that he was now just wanting to know more, more, more to feed the inner child in him that was dying to go on that ultimate adventure. He considered himself a dreamer after all. Many Hollywood types were, of course.  
He supposed if he really tried hard he could also work the angle of his ‘inner child’ as being the cause for him to go snooping around and getting a bad case of sticky fingers.  
He had found the black Book of the Dead in Alex O’Connell’s suitcase and had taken it out to look at.  
But he wasn’t content with just looking he quickly found out. He wanted to witness a bit of magic.  
That’s where William O’Connell came in.  
He knew for a fact that Will could read and write in ancient Egyptian because he had bragged about it a fair few times while in a drunk and disorderly stupor while around beautiful women who could care less. At those specific times, Raul Casablancas could have cared less as well, but after the things he had seen in the past few days - suddenly he was very interested in Will O’Connell’s ability.  
And he told him so.  
Will O’Connell stared at the acclaimed director as if he was nuts. “You want me to read from that book?” he asked incredulously.  
The sharp eyed director and his less-than-intelligent-but-decent-with-line-memorization son stared at Will O’Connell expectantly. “Why not?” the director asked. “What’s the harm? Come on, just something small.”  
"Something small from the Book of the Dead?" he asked in a disbelieving voice. But it was said on a breath because his nose was already buried in the ancient text. No one could ever accuse him of being the rational twin - that was Brad’s thing. Will had a knack for mischief and could never say no to a challenge.  
"I know!" Will said triumphantly, spotting a spell that seemed harmless enough and went with one of his dad’s pieces that was in the room. He faced the ornate miniature sarcophagus that contained a mummified Cleo, which had been his grandmother Evie’s cat, and enunciated the spell. The ancient words spoke of bringing the feline back to life. He was sure of it. Well, pretty sure of it.  
When it worked he barely let out a relieved sigh and put on a grin like he knew it would have worked all along.  
A stream of opalescent light shimmered from the seal of the miniature sarcophagus and a surged of magic blasted through the air. The sweet sound of a kitten’s meow sounded from inside the small jewel-toned coffin.  
The three men exchanged glances before Raul took the courage and opened the lid…  
A ball of tattered fluff pounced out and instantly started purring and rubbing against their pant legs.  
Raul laughed in delight.  
Magic.

/

"What was that?" Tiri asked in alarm moments after a powerful current surged through the air. It felt like…magic.  
Her bewildered gaze met her grandfather’s. He, however, looked like he knew all too well what must have happened. “Someone read from the book.”  
He quickly stood up and strode out of the room. Tiri got up and followed behind him. The scene they stumbled upon was so surreal. Raul had put down a saucer of milk for a creature wrapped in tattered linen. As it lapped at the sustenance it seemed to be…regenerating.  
"Oh no," her grandfather said, eye-ing the cat that was turning into a majestic fluffy white ball of fur.  
Her Uncle Will turned to look at Grandpa Alex, a prideful grin plastered on his face. “Oh don’t worry, Pops, I only did small magic. Look at that! I brought back Cleo!”  
"There is no such thing as small magic, idiot boy," Grandpa Alex said as he strode out of the room to where his other son, Brad, was pacing. He turned on the television.  
“In breaking news, a vast army of feline creatures that seem to resemble jaguars have suddenly burst as if out of thin air in Egypt. Reports coming in are informing us that the creatures are not allowing people to come in or out of the borders of Egypt…”  
Alex O’Connell slowly turned away from the television and asked Brad in a wavering voice, “Son, open the door for me please.”  
Brad gave him an uncertain nod and then guardedly opened the door.  
A tall, black creature with lethal-looking muscles stood upright filling the doorway. It had razor sharp claws and the predator face of a jaguar. Upon seeing them, its red eyes narrowed and it bared its fangs. They were as long and as sharp as a sabertooth tiger’s. It held a spear in front of it menacingly and started a low, reverberating hiss that turned into an all powerful roar. Brad O’Connell yelled in surprise and closed the door in its face.  
To his son Will Alex O’Connell breathed out, “You’ve risen the cat guardians of the underworld.”  
Will looked decidedly less prideful now.  
"Cat guardians?" Brad O’Connell asked worriedly while quickly backing away from the door. "If the cats guarding hell are up here…then whose down there guarding hell?"  
As if on cue a mummified arm burst through the floor.  
Alex backed away towards his weapons chest. “That would be no one, Brad,” he answered quickly, while loading up on ammunition. “With the cat guardians up here, I’m hazarding a guess that Egypt is the new Hell.”


	14. Chapter 14

Namesake  
Chapter 14  
'Egypt is the new Hell,' echoed through Tiri’s mind over and over again. She couldn’t comprehend it. But there wasn’t time to as another mummified arm burst through the floor and this time gripped her ankle. She gave a blood-curdling scream as she tried to pull her ankle free from its death-like grip to no avail.  
"Tiri!" her father yelled in concern as he dove towards her. He deftly swept the machete he’d been holding towards the decaying arm, severing it in half. With a sickening thud she was freed. She gave a disgusted grimace and shook the hand still loosely gripping her ankle so it fell off.  
"We have to reverse the curse! We must. Get to. The…Book," her grandfather gasped out as he combated against a newly risen mummy.  
Tiri shared a look with her father before they both determinedly ran towards the room that Raul Casablancas had stowed The Book of the Dead in.  
What they were met with upon entering the room stopped them dead in their tracks.  
A decayed man swathed in the tattered black robes of an ancient Egyptian High Priest held the Book of the Dead in his skeletal hands. His depth-less eye sockets still somehow managed to hold a look of greed in them as his rotten lips stretched into a black grin. When he sensed their presence he turned his ravaged face towards them. His expression turned stony… And Tiri had the eeriest feeling that his fury was monumentally directed towards her. He barked out something in ancient Egyptian, mostly of which she didn’t understand - but she did understand one thing.  
”-Evelyn Carnahan!”  
'Uh oh,' she thought, a black dread filling her veins.  
She was suddenly lurched towards him against her will on a powerful gust of sand and wind. She fell into his grip, which he fastened around her throat. She felt her throat constrict and soon she was gasping for air. He tightened his grip even further and higher to where her feet were swept off the floor. She was choking to her death in midair. Far off she could hear her dad and then her grandfather and the rest of her companions calling out her name in distress but her dimming vision bleakly took in the sight of them being held back by the High Priest’s loyal mummy followers. She was going to die at the hands of Imhotep, for she knew with no uncertainty that it was him.  
Something inside of her told her to be brave like her O’Connell ancestors and look death in the face. She gathered her last reserve of strength and steadily stared at the maliciously grinning mummy. First he sneered at her courage, but then something wavered in his expression. With a suddenly awed look dawning upon his face he searched her golden eyes and breathed out in his brittle and ravaged voice, “Nefertiri?”  
But he had never let up on his grip…and she succumbed to blackness.

/

She woke up asphyxiated and gasping for air. Her world was still black and she was braced against a cold stone floor where she must have fallen. Changes in her atmosphere warred at her senses. Tiri took in a few choked breaths before her breathing slowly evened out and her vision turned from nothingness to swimming black dots before finally adjusting to her surroundings.  
Her cloudy mind tried to process where she was and what had happened to her. She had been at her grandfather’s place in Cairo when… She thought hard, trying to jog her memory. When…mummies…had attacked.  
Her eyes widened in dawning horror. Imhotep had been choking her when suddenly her world had turned black…and she had felt a warmth. Her hands went unerringly to her throat, where Princess Nefertiri’s Usekh collar rested - it was still warm from the bit of magic that had just surged from it.  
Finally she took in where she was. She gave a gasp of astonishment when she realized just where the necklace had transported her to…  
The thick, artfully designed walls were finely carved and freshly painted - but she perfectly recognized the majestic chamber because she had been in it not too long ago.  
She was in Hamunaptra.  
She quickly stood, ignoring her dizziness and circled around, looking to see if there were any signs of life…or mummies. The place was eerily silent, but strangely hummed with life. It was dark, but torches were lit as if to keep the cavernous room from becoming pitch black. The hair at the nape of her neck stood on end as she slowly turned. The room she stood in was decorated with gauzy linens and golden statues of Isis. Two figures suddenly caught her eye towards the back of the dim room. They were half-crouched as if they had been praying until they had been disturbed by her presence. One stood and then the other. Tiri gasped and stepped back.  
The first figure pulled down a dark gauzy veil to reveal a beautiful young woman with chocolate eyes and golden-olive skin. Her eyes were lined with kohl and atop her head was a solid gold and jewel encrusted net worn by ancient Egyptian royal women. The Egyptian royal seemed to be just as shocked as Tiri…because, except for their eyes, they were identical.


	15. Chapter 15

Namesake  
Chapter 15  
"TIRI!” Ardeth Bay roared at the top of his lungs as he burst into Alex O’Connell’s Cairo apartment. His wild eyes were met with chaos. Mummies were everywhere, clawing and gripping at Tiri’s family. Ardeth Bay quickly ushered his Medjai warriors into the room. Knowing instinctively what to do, they made quick work of dispatching the mummies by slicing their limbs off. Ardeth himself pulled a mummy off of Tiri’s friend Laxmi and beheaded it. The normally brazen dark girl was looking stricken and pale. She did not look relieved to be saved by him. He ignored this. “Where’s Tiri?”  
Laxmi’s eyes narrowed on him. “She went into that room,” she said, indicating which one she meant with a twist of her head. He nodded his head determinedly and swiftly barked orders in Arabic to his nearest Medjai.  
“Take her,” he said as he thrust Laxmi towards the warrior. She screeched in protest - he ignored it. ”And the rest of the living to our vehicles outside. Guard them with your life, My Brother,” he said while looking the warrior straight in the eyes. The warrior nodded in understanding of his important task and hoisted a protesting Laxmi over his shoulder. Ardeth watched them leave the room before he quickly headed towards the room Tiri was supposed to be in.  
As he drew nearer the sound of Brad O’Connell’s voice made his blood run cold.  
"NO! NO! NOOOO! Tiri! What have you done with her, you filthy bastard? !”  
It was as he feared. Even though he had switched his men from horses to vehicles at their armory - he still hadn’t made it.  
He knew that destiny was at play here, but after thousands of years of being without her he could hardly stand to know that she was gone once again. He squeezed his eyes shut and stood still for a moment, trying to clear the grief from his heart as he remembered the promises she made him long ago.  
She promised that she would return.  
There was a part of him, the hardened warrior part, that knew there was a chance that no matter how much she promised him, she still might not make it through the perils of his ancient land - but there was another part of him, the young Medjai prince from centuries ago, that had to have hope. It was that hope which had enabled him to last this long, after all.  
“Isis,” he breathed out in an ancient prayer. “Protect your daughter in all that she must face.”  
With that he opened his eyes and walked into the room that contained The Creature. His dark gaze fastened onto the rotted countenance of Imhotep. A dark, ancient loathing formed inside Ardeth Bay as he stared at the malevolent Egyptian priest who had caused him so much pain.  
The mummified corpse had not yet noticed him. He looked disturbed as he stared at his own skeletal hands as if just a moment ago something had been in them that was gone now.  
Ardeth knew all too well what had been in Imhotep’s hands just moments prior.  
Tiri.  
“She’s gone,” Ardeth supplied in Ancient Egyptian, stepping forward in a menacing stance.  
Finally, Imhotep looked away from his own hands and took in the leader of the Medjai. A black rage clouded his face as he recognized who spoke to him. "YOU!" he roared.  
“Yes, Imhotep,” Ardeth said with a grim twist to his lips. “It is I. Prince Ardet. Twelfth son and leader to Head Chieftain Menetnashte’s Medjai army.” He raised his scimitar, ready for combat. "I have once again come to send you to the depths of the Underworld."  
Imhotep’s mouth twisted into a cruel smile as his decayed nails lengthened. “You can try, Medjai Prince…but we both know that, with our history, victory has always been within my favor.”  
With that the two immortals faced off.

/

"What’s going on? Who are you? Where am I?" Tiri babbled in fear as she backed away from the two young women approaching her. Her words did not seem to register in their eyes; she could only decipher curiosity and confusion.  
The one that looked exactly like her stepped forward cautiously, as if she didn’t want to scare a little lamb. She said something in an appealing soft-spoken voice and touched Tiri’s cheek. The girl was speaking Ancient Egyptian.  
Tiri stepped back further out of reached until she was backed into a corner. She could feel the smooth ridges of carved Egyptian hieroglyphs through the thin material of the black dress she still wore. She swallowed convulsively, trying to clear her suddenly dry throat.  
She had a feeling that her real question wasn’t “Where am I?” but “When am I?”  
"This is impossible!" she yelled, shaking her head in hysteria.  
The girl tried again, stepping forward while making a calming gesture, clearly saying with body language that she meant no harm.  
Tiri was truly scared and anxious. She stood stiff as a board as the Egyptian noble woman stepped into her personal space again and studied her. The girl’s eyes were a deep chocolate brown. They reminded her so much of her Grandmother Evelyn. She trembled in awe and fear as she watched the girl watch her. She noticed the girl’s dark eyes lingered on her own golden eyes and borrowed black dress.  
Suddenly the Egyptian girl’s mouth broke into a delighted smile as if she were particularly satisfied with Tiri’s sudden appearance. She slowly offered her small hand for Tiri to take. Tiri stared at it, realizing that, besides the deeply tanned color of the other girl’s hands, they were almost exactly the same size and shape. Tiri’s gaze slid up to meet the other girl’s dark brown gaze; her irises were dancing with the joy of discovery.  
Tiri slowly drew in a breath and took the girl’s hand. She was unsure of everything in this moment, but right now the only thing recognizable to her was the girl’s familiar eyes.  
So she allowed the Egyptian girl to lead her into the unknown.

/

"Nefertiri, what are you doing with this imposter? We should be handing her over to Pharoah’s bodyguards."  
The princess of Egypt kept up her pace as she pulled the strange girl behind her while her weary best friend and personal attendant, Nefertari, flanked her side. “She is not an imposter, Nefertari. She is a gift from Isis! She is coming with us to my rooms.”  
"What are you plotting?" Nefertari asked darkly as she struggled to keep pace with the excited noble and the foreign girl.  
"You will find out soon," the princess said with a secret smile.  
"Ugh! You are impossible. I do not like this," the princess’ personal attendant voiced. She wasn’t one to withhold her opinion.  
"But you love me, so you will go along with it anyway," the princess said knowingly, playfully nudging Nefertari in the side.  
Nefertari begrudgingly agreed to the princess’ statement by keeping her silence. It had been a long time, after all, since the princess of Egypt had smiled. She missed her best friend’s smiles enough to go along with whatever she had planned…but she could not help but feel anxious. The girl they had discovered had just fallen out of thin air! Nefertari believed in the God’s and Goddess’, but she was not as sure as Princess Nefertiri that this girl was a ‘gift’ from Isis.  
They took secret passages used only by those granted access with the sacred octagonal keys. Princess Nefertiri wished to keep the girl a secret still it seemed. Nefertari’s anxiety mounted even more with every step. By the time that they made it to Princess Nefertiri’s chambers, Nefertari had already imagined every possible way that their plan to sneak the girl in secretly could run a muck. Most imagined scenarios ended with Nefertari’s beheading for not bringing the girl immediately to the higher authorities.  
Nefertari was practically vibrating with anxiety by the time that they made it to Princess Nefertiri’s rooms. She took the extra precaution to make sure that the secret door that they had come in through was properly sealed.  
“There, now, Sister. Sit here,” Princess Nefertiri said in a motherly voice to the frightened girl as she led her to sit on the plush expanse of her own royal bed.  
Nefertari could not help but feel a pang in her heart at the warmth that emanated from the princess as she doted on the foreign girl. Not since their girlhood, when the princess’ mother passed, had Nefertari seen the spark of light that brought Princess Nefertiri to life like now. It made the personal attendant soften to the girl that brought this emotion out of the princess. “She is frightened and does not understand us,” Nefertari hedged. ”Would you like me to bring her some herbs to calm her nerves?”  
Princess Nefertiri turned her attention to her personal attendant; the smile she bestowed on Nefertari made it so abundantly clear why she was dubbed the most beautiful woman in all of Egypt. “Yes, that would be wonderful, Nefertari.” The princess took her attendant’s hand and squeezed it encouragingly for a moment before letting go. “Thank you for coming around. It means a lot to me.”  
"Anything for you, Nefertiri. You are my best friend," Nefertari said. She made an effort to spare the strange girl a friendly smile before exiting the room.  
She came back after a time with mixed and mashed herbs and a goblet of hot water to find Princess Nefertiri finishing up anointing the foreign girl with fine cosmetics meant for royals. The princess had changed the girl out of the black dress that looked suspiciously similar and into the ceremonial garb that Princess Nefertiri herself was suppose to wear tonight.  
Nefertari placed the tray of herbs down onto Princess Nefertiri’s writing desk, where freshly sealed papyrus sheets lay. "What is this?” she asked in an unsteady voice, indicating the letters and the foreign girl in princess clothing.  
“I am leaving tonight,” Princess Nefertiri said in a voice that brooked no argument. “And she is going to take my place as princess. Isis has blessed my prayers. I no longer am obligated to be my father’s successor.”  
"N-no," Nefertari said. “Why would you want to do this?”  
"You know that I am unhappy here, Nefertari."  
Nefertari bowed her head in grief. She knew.  
“Perhaps we could-“  
"There is no ‘perhaps’ Nefertari. I must give my title over to her. I feel it in my soul. Isis has laid it all bare before me. I know that this is what I must do. Please respect my decision, Nefertari," the princess pleaded.  
“You know that I respect all of your decisions. Even if I do not agree with them,” Nefertari said in a hushed tone.  
The princess gave a wry, familiar laugh. "And you know that I love your honesty." Her dark brown eyes fell onto the foreign girl, who sat on the edge of the princess bed in gossamer white linens that revealed bejeweled golden metal garb worn during ceremonies. “Here is what you must do, Nefertari,” the princess said, revealing how familiar she was with taking command because of her station. “You will tell my father that during my prayers today, Ra saw fit to gift me with golden eyes to show that I am ready for my Royal Priestess ceremony. He will believe you because you never lie.”  
"Until now," Nefertari commented dryly.  
“And you will also say,” the princess continued, not missing a beat. “That my skin has grown so pale because it is a sign of cleansing and rebirth.”  
"And what will I say of your height? That you have grown taller so that you could be closer to the sun god?" Nefertari said sarcastically.  
"Exactly," Princess Nefertiri said impishly…

/

Tiri was royally confused - pun intended.  
She had sat still while the princess and the darker female, a chambermaid of some sort, talked among themselves. Tiri was fidgeting and highly wearisome of why the princess had dressed her in what was obviously her own personal finery. It was so regal Tiri could hardly imagine the detail that had gone into it.  
Finally they seemed to come to an end in their conversation and the dark chambermaid dressed in white linens came towards Tiri and beckoned her up. Tiri hesitantly followed orders and stood. The chambermaid wasted no time and grabbed Tiri by the hand, swiftly leading her out of the room. Tiri turned to see if the Egyptian princess would follow - but the princess had put on hooded black robes, as if she wanted anonymity, and raised her hand in farewell.  
The last image of the princess that Tiri was left with was of her smiling in encouragement before exiting out of a shadowy secret passageway.  
Tiri suddenly had a bad feeling about this and stiffened, slowing her pace tremendously. The chambermaid didn’t seem to appreciate this and pulled her along. The girl was surprisingly strong for such a short and slender thing.  
"All right, all right - I’m coming," Tiri grumbled. Solid gold bangles and ankle bracelets jingled against her skin as they traveled along passages. Finally they came to a tall and ornate entryway. Hundreds of voices carried from the other side of the portal into the next room.  
Tiri felt the thrum of her heart pick up speed at the foreign sound of merrymaking and steady conversation flowing in an ancient tongue. The chambermaid impatiently pushed her from behind, bringing her closer to the sound. “Wait! You don’t expect me to go in there dressed like this,” she said indignantly, gesturing to herself. She was basically in a see-through dress with a solid gold bikini on.  
The chambermaid gave an impatient grunt and gave her another shove. Tiri surmised that that meant yes as she was successfully pushed into the room this time. She stumbled into a grandiose hall filled with more gold and jewels and lavish decoration than she imagined King Midas himself could have come up with - even with his golden touch.  
As she steadied herself she was suddenly hit with the uncomfortable realization that the room had gone eerily quite. She finally focused on the sea of faces. All eyes were on her.  
The crisp voice of an authoritative man rang out. Tiri felt the power swell from within his being and knew as soon as her eyes locked onto him that she was gazing into the eyes of a Pharaoh.  
It was Pharaoh Seti I. She had seen his image carved into statues at the Cairo Museum of Antiquities. He sat in the center of a lavish throne area. His golden chair was the biggest and most ornate. It was flanked by a dozen or so other chairs. Tiri knew from her grandfather’s stories that only the most elite Ancient Egyptians had the honor of sitting in chairs - the rest sat on pillows or solid floor. The chambermaid beside her started talking in what seemed to be a very formal tone of voice, as if she were making an introduction.  
The Pharaoh stood from his throne as the chambermaid spoke and ushered them forward. Tiri stayed rooted to the spot, too petrified to step forward. The chambermaid tittered nervously and swiftly guided her forward against her will. Before she knew what was happening the Pharaoh was gently tilting her head from side to side under her chin, studying her eyes.  
He seemed to be delighted by what he saw and swiftly embraced her. Tiri allowed him to hug her pliant form and guide her by the hand to sit in the empty seat next to him. Everything felt so surreal in this moment that there was a loud, chaotic buzz that rang in her ears so that she could only hear the distant sound of clapping for a long time as she drank in this strange and opulent environment.  
It was one distinct voice that was finally able to penetrate the fog clouding her brain. The familiarity of the sound cut like a knife. And the voice was close, very close. She quickly turned to take in the person to her right.  
Only to have her suspicion confirmed.  
It was Ardeth Bay. Only he did not look the same as he did when she last saw him. There was something more carefree about him. The hard edge of being an immortal warrior had not yet entered his eyes. In this setting he looked the part of an elegant prince enjoying good company and a royal feast. His silky black hair was still long but his jaw was smooth-shaven and he wore fine black robes and a black-gold royal headpiece. He was talking amiably with a man to his right, who bore a striking familial resemblance to him.  
"You," she said, unable to help herself. She stumbled out of her chair and stood over him. She had caught his attention finally - and everyone else’s as well. He sat in his seat looking at her with a perplexed expression on his face. "You had something to do with this!" He shook his head, not understanding her. "Tell me how to get back!" she screeched, grabbing fist fulls of his robes. She hated how he was looking at her as if he’d never seen her before; as if he thought she were insane. "Damn you! Tell me now!"  
She slapped him.  
Everyone stared at her display in shock.  
To be continued…


End file.
